


mixed signals

by Chokingonholywater



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, christine is wonderful, jeremy is in denial, michael loves and supports his best friend, the squip isnt evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-06 19:10:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12217146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chokingonholywater/pseuds/Chokingonholywater
Summary: So, yeah, maybe buying a four hundred dollar pill from the back of the Payless wasn't exactly thetraditionalway of dealing with your feelings, but Jeremy didn't think it was that bad.Right?





	1. down the hatch

"You sure you wanna do this?"

Michael sat across from Jeremy, both of them staring at the gray pill in Jeremy's open palm. A plate of chili fries sat forgotten between them, a bright green bottle of Mountain Dew uncapped next to it. 

Jeremy's hands were shaking, but he couldn't just  _not_ take it. After all, he'd just spent pretty much his entire life savings on the small capsule in his hand. 

"Yeah, no, I - uh, I'm sure," Jeremy sputtered, his pulse racing. He stopped staring at the pill and raised his eyes towards the boy across from him. Michael's face was screwed up in thought and he was biting his lower lip, the way he always did when he was concerned. Jeremy appreciated that he wasn't the only one who was anxious about the whole idea. 

Suddenly, Michael looked up. He gave a soft smile, and Jeremy couldn't help but return it with one of his own, despite the nerves. He always did smile more when Michael was around. 

"Well, if you're sure, then come on!" Michael said with a grin. "I say it's time to try this baby out." 

"Oh.  _Oh._ Right," Jeremy muttered, his heart rate doubling. He wiped his empty hand on his pants to get rid of the sweat, taking a deep breath. Michael gave him an encouraging thumbs up as Jeremy reached for the Mountain Dew with a shaking hand. 

"H-here goes nothing," Jeremy muttered, squeezing his eyes shut as he popped the  pill into his mouth and downed it with a big gulp of soda. 

He kept his eyes shut tight, imagining the pill sliding down, down, down through his throat and into his stomach. His eyes were still squeezed shut when Michael broke the silence a minute later. 

"So, uh, not to interrupt whatever weird squinting thing you have going on Jer, but..." he trailed off.

Jeremy cracked open one eye, then the other, until both eyes were fully open. He was greeted by the sight of Michael watching him expectantly from across the table. 

Jeremy felt heat rise to his cheeks - he was sure he'd looked ridiculous just now with his eyes squeezed closed so tightly, and Michael had probably been watching him the whole time. This wasn't the most embarrassing thing he'd ever done in front of Michael, but that didn't make it any better. 

"Earth to Jeremy?" Michael said, waving a hand in front of his friend's face. 

Jeremy blinked, startled. "Oh, yeah, what-what's up?" 

 Michael gave him an incredulous look. "What's up? _What's up?_ You tell me Jeremy! Did it work? How do you feel?"

"Uh." 

Jeremy stopped, considering the question. How  _did_ he feel? A little sweaty, still blushing slightly from the weird face incident, shaky, maybe a little bit nauseous? 

"I feel like..."

Michael's eyes were wide, his lips parted slightly as he waiting for Jeremy's reply. 

"Like a chump," Jeremy groaned, sinking down in his seat. "I don't feel anything different at all!"

"Nothing?" Michael asked, furrowing his brows. "C'mon, try saying something cool!" 

Jeremy wracked his brain, but came up blank as usual. Instead, he just blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "I think I just blew my bar mitzvah money on a wintergreen tic tac."

Michael grimaced. "Yeah, okay," he said. "Decidedly not cool."

Jeremy groaned, crossing his arms on the food court table in front of him. He bent forward and buried his face in the sleeves of his cardigan. "This was such a waste," Jermey whined, his voice muffled. "Four hundred dollars! And for nothing!"

He felt a comforting squeeze on his shoulder that he knew must have been Michael.  Sure enough, when Jeremy turned his head and cracked his eyes open, there was Michael, standing next to him with one hand resting on Jeremy's shoulder. He had on a comforting smile, and his eyes looked sad on Jeremy's behalf. It made Jeremy feel a little better, but then he remembered the money - _oh god, the money_  - and his embarrassment and disappointment came flooding back.  

Jeremy closed his eyes again with a groan. "Just let me sit here and wallow in these chili fries forever," he moaned, his face pressed back into his arms. 

With a look of affection that Jeremy couldn't see, Michael gave his buddy a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. 

"How about you wallow for —" Michael paused, thinking, "ten minutes, and then we can go back to my place and forget this whole thing ever happened." 

Jeremy made a noise of confirmation from behind his arms. 

"Alright, cool," Michael said, removing his hand from Jeremy's arm. "I'm just gonna run over to Spencer's to pick up that Crystal Pepsi I was telling you about earlier. Be right back, okay?"

Jeremy made another unintelligible sound of affirmation, and Michael took that as a good enough cue to start walking towards Spencer's. 

Jeremy sat up a few second after Michael left, watching his red hoodie disappear into the crowd. Jeremy sighed, grabbing a fry from the basket in front of him. 

It was slightly soggy, but it tasted better than the taunting, minty fresh aftertaste of the pill. Jeremy sat in silence, contemplating whether it was worth it to go take a leap off of the nearest bridge so he wouldn't have to think about how stupid he'd just been. 

As he brought another fry to his lips, he felt a sudden pain shoot through his head. 

"Agh, what the hell!" he yelled, dropping the fry on the table in favor of clutching his head with both hands. 

The pain was growing, and Jeremy could hear some kind of whirring sound in the back of his mind. It grew louder as the pain mounted, and Jeremy pushed his hands against his ears, frantically trying to block out the sound - and the pain. 

Jeremy nearly fell out of his chair when suddenly, he heard an automated voice begin to speak. 

_Startup initiated._

Jeremy looked around him desperately, but no one was speaking to him. It didn't seem like anyone else could hear the weird, disembodied voice, either. 

Another sharp stab of pain shot behind Jeremy's eyes and he let out a shriek, clutching his head tighter. 

_Calibration in process. Please excuse some mild discomfort._

"Mild?" Jeremy's voice cracked as he desperately tried to slow his breathing back to a normal rate. He was in agony - and then, as abruptly as it had come, the pain subsided. 

Jeremy blinked, his whole face right red when he realized people were staring. "I-I'm fine," he offered, attempting a wheezy laugh. "It w-was just—"

Without warning, the pain in his head returned with explosive force. It was double - no, triple - no, quadruple the intensity it had been before, and This time, Jeremy really did fall out of his chair. 

The pain was unbearable, and Jeremy could hear himself screaming as he curled up on the floor of the food court. What the hell was going on? 

He vaguely registered the fact that people were staring at him, gathered around as he squirmed in agony on the ground. 

_Access procedure initiated. Accessing neural memory. Accessing muscle memory._

For the second time, the agonizing pain came to an abrupt end. Jeremy remained panting on the ground, cautious after the last respite had been so brief. After a few moments of labored breathing and otherwise relative silence, Jeremy heard that voice again.

_Access procedure completed. My apologies for the discomfort._

Jeremy shot up in the air, doing a double take. Suddenly, a man had appeared standing next to him. He was hazy around the edges, and Jeremy realized that the voice was coming from the man's mouth. 

"Jeremy Heere."

The man peered down at him, seeming to consider his next words carefully. Jeremy just stared back at him in shock. Where the hell had he come from? And why was he dressed so weird?

After a beat, the man opened his mouth again, still staring down at Jeremy. 

"Welcome to your Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor."

Another pause. 

"Your SQUIP."

This time, the pause was less of a pause and more of an uncomfortable silence. It stretched on, seemingly without end.

His Squip - was that supposed to mean something major to Jeremy? He knew it was what the pill was called, but Jeremy wasn't really sure how to react. He didn't know what he'd been expected when he'd downed the pill a few minutes earlier, but it hadn't been  _this_. 

After a few more uncomfortable moments, Jeremy attempted to break the silence.

"So, l-let me get this straight," he said, brows furrowed in confusion. "That four hundred dollar pill I just bought..."

"The SQUIP, yes," the man interjected.

"...made some weird, Keanu knockoff show up? Am I high right now?" Jeremy asked, his eyes widening at the thought. 

"No, you're not high, Jeremy. And if this form bothers you," the man replied, gesturing to himself, "there are other possibilities. This is simply my factory default."

The man seemed to waver slightly before he continued speaking. "I come preprogrammed with multiple forms." His body flickered, then quickly cycled through a handful of other possible appearance options. Jeremy recognized Sean Connery and what might have been some kind of anime girl, but the bizarre display was too fast for him to contemplate most of what he was seeing. 

Seeing something pixelate and morph like that in real life was too disorientating for Jeremy to watch. "N-no," he muttered quickly as the man kept scrambling through various options. "Keanu is fine."

Keanu Reeves rematerialized in front of Jeremy. It wasn't any less bizarre than before, and an uncomfortable silence stretched on for a few moments as Jeremy tried to figure out what to do next. 

"So," he drawled, dragging out the word awkwardly. "You're...in my head?" Jeremy pointed to his head with one hand, the other hanging limply palm up, looking for answers. 

"Yes, Jeremy. And let me remind you," he added, "that as I exist only in your mind, you appear to all others to be having an animated conversation with yourself. So don't do that." 

Jeremy flushed, glancing around to see more than a few judgmental faces turned his way. With a shaky smile and an awkward half wave at the people staring, Jeremy turned back to the man in front of him. 

"Well, then," he hissed, careful to keep his voice quiet, "what exactly am I supposed to do?" 

"Simply _think_ at me, Jeremy. As if you were telepathic," the man clarified. 

Jeremy's eyes lit up. "Like in X-men?" he thought excitedly. 

"Yes. Exactly like the X-men," the man replied, rolling his eyes. "I can see we will certainly have our work cut out for us."

Jeremy felt like he should've been offended, but he was still too shocked to care. He couldn't stop staring at the Squip - it was just so _weird_. He couldn't help the anxiety that sprouted in his gut, slowly crawling up his spine. What was he thinking, buying something this shady? Like, he literally bought it out of the back of the Payless - the _Payless!_ \- at the mall, what if it killed him or gave him cancer or some other horrible side effect?

"Don't worry, the odds of any of those outcome are minuscule. My series has the most up to date code," the Squip said, strings of ones and zeroes momentarily visible inside his eyes. "Only approximately .3 percent of people with this version have experienced adverse effects. 

"Oh, o-okay." Jeremy said, his anxiety placated by the statistic. He couldn't help but wonder how the Squip had known he was worried in the first place.

Keanu gave a laugh in front of him. "I'm in your _head_ , Jeremy; your thoughts are projected to me clearly at all times."

The thought made Jeremy squirm - he certainly thought some embarrassing things - but his Squip dismissed that worry with a wave of his hand. 

"I have no reason to comment on the majority of your thoughts," he said, "unless I feel intervention is necessary to achieve your goals." 

Then, the Squip froze, staring off at a spot behind Jeremy's shoulder. Jeremy whipped around, but saw nothing. Confused, Jeremy turned back to the Squip. 

He was still standing perfectly still, but Jeremy could see snatches of images in the Squip's eyes - what looked like a photo of Jeremy when he was younger, someone in a red hoodie, a locker, some kind of body of water, another, more recent photo of Jeremy - flipping through in quick succession. 

Suddenly, the Squip blinked, eyes returning to their normal appearance. He gave Jeremy an inquisitive glance, and Jeremy felt his anxiety return. Just as Jeremy was about to say something, _anything_ , to break the uncomfortable silence, his Squip spoke.

"I have been viewing your memories," he said simply. "I feel confident that I understand the objective, but I will need verbal confirmation in order to begin taking action."

Jeremy blinked, hearing the words but not understanding exactly what was going on. He'd been watching Jeremy's memories? 

"Jeremy."

The Squip's voice pulled Jeremy back to attention. 

"What did you get me to do? What is your objective?"

Jeremy's face flushed. His brain provided a handful of memories, flying by in quick succession: Jeremy saw himself tripping in the hall in front of Christine and limping away, clinging to Michael's shoulder, Jeremy snorting milk out of his nose at Michael's joke before realizing Christine had seen him, Jeremy flubbing his audition while Christine sat in the front row, and a dozen other embarrassing events. 

Jeremy swallowed thickly, his anxiety inching upwards as he relived all of the events that had brought him to the back of the Payless in the first place. He suddenly remembered that the Squip had said he needed verbal confirmation, so he turned back to the Squip.

"I, uh," Jeremy stuttered, face still bright red from thinking of so many embarrassing Christine moments in quick succession. The Squip raised and brow and gestured for him to continue. 

"I've got this crush!" Jeremy blurted. "That's why I got you! It's - I, uh —" 

But the Squip cut him off with a lazy grin. 

"That's all I needed to hear - it's exactly as I suspected. Well, Jeremy Heere," he said, Jeremy's name rolling off his tongue in an eerily smooth way, "let's get to work, shall we?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO im sure if youre like me you've read the equivalent of the scene many times by many different authors but listen it was necessary for the plot!!!!! also trust me this actually is an au and the people i told abt it were so on board i had to write it, things will diverge from canon starting next chapter.
> 
> let me know in the comments what you thought and what you think is gonna happen! i gain five years on my life when i get nice comments!!!
> 
> oh and find me on tumblr @choking-onholywater :')


	2. punk never died it just went geek

The mall was crowded - it was a Friday night, after all - but Jeremy pushed through the crowd undeterred. He knew that there would probably be less people at the store he was going to, so he tried not to get too worked up when people bumped into him as they walked by.  
  
Now, if only he knew  _why_ exactly he was going to this particular store, maybe things would make a bit more sense.  
  
"Oh, c'mon Jeremy, don't you trust me?"  
  
Jeremy glanced to the side, still disorientated by the presence of Keanu Reeves hovering above the ground. Since the Squip didn't actually have to walk, it had taken to sitting a few feet in the air, floating alongside Jeremy as he trekked through the mall.  
  
Jeremy sighed. "Yeah. I guess so. I just don't understand wh—"  
  
The Squip cut him off, expression edging on a glare. "Just trust me, Jeremy. I have access to multitudes of possible futures, and our first step towards any of the ones in which we reach your goal is going to this store."  
  
Jeremy rolled his eyes. After he'd confirmed that he'd bought the Squip to help deal with a crush, it had been all business. The Squip had instructed him to exit the food court because, "first things first: go buy a new shirt, Jeremy!"  
  
His feet had seemed to move of their own accord then, and he'd been halfway across the food court before he even knew what was happening. Frankly, it had scared the shit out of Jeremy, not being in control of his body. His Squip had apologized, explaining that sometimes, he accidentally projected verbal instructions too far and sent them into the part of the brain that controlled Jeremy's muscles.  
  
The thought of it happening again made Jeremy's palm sweat as he ducked between the various mall goers. It wasn't like his Squip had done it on purpose for those few short moments, but it still made his skin crawl.  
  
At any rate, Jeremy was now fully in control of his own body again. He turned the corner, careful to avoid running into anyone around the bend, and spotted two familiar faces sitting at a bench a short ways away from him. Jeremy stopped - much to the chagrin of the people walking behind him - and felt anxiety filling his gut.

"Do you know those girls?" The Squip asked, settling down to stand next to Jeremy.

Jeremy nodded in response.

Brooke Lohst and Chloe Valentine were the most popular girls in school, the top of the Middleborough food chain. They weren't exactly sweet; Jeremy could recall quite a few incidents where Chloe had mocked him or Michael in the halls. Seeing them at the mall shouldn't have been surprising, but Jeremy still felt dread pooling in his stomach as he thought of all the times Chloe had made him the laughingstock of the school.

Jeremy went to turn the other way, but his Squip stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Oh, god - what if his Squip wanted him to say hello to the girls? He'd mess it up or stutter or they'd laugh at him or —

"Jeremy. Calm down," his Squip said, leaning against the wall. "I will not make you interact with those girls. There is no need to, they are not vital to your goals. We just need to walk past them to reach our destination."

Relief flooded Jeremy's body. He turned, bracing himself to walk past the two girls, when his Squip spoke again.

"However," he said, causing Jeremy to freeze. "If you _wanted_ to say hello, I could ensure that you would not stutter or say anything unusual. It would just be a simple interaction, if you wanted to test the waters."

Jeremy pondered the offer. It probably couldn't hurt to say a quick hello in passing, and if it went poorly Jeremy could just keep walking, right?

"Okay," Jeremy said nervously. "Help me say hi to them?"

The Squip nodded with a smile. "Just walk with confidence. Take your hands out of your pockets, don't slouch, chin up - there you go! All we're going to do is give a small wave and say hello when we walk by, alright? Just a causal acknowledgement that yes, you know each other."

The anxiety was back in full force. Jeremy considered taking it back, telling the Squip he couldn't do it.

"Jeremy, listen. You can do this - with me, you can do this, and more, if you so choose. But let's start small. It's going to be fine. Trust me," the Squip said.

"O-okay," Jeremy replied.

"Good. Now, fix your posture like I told you before, and let's walk. Follow my lead."

The Squip walked confidently through the crowd. Jeremy followed him, imitating the slight swagger in his step and hoping he didn't look too ridiculous.

The Squip slowed as he passed Brooke and Chloe. So did Jeremy.

His Squip raised a hand in greeting and said "hey" before moving on. With a deep breath, Jeremy did the same.

"Hey," he said, shocked that he hadn't stuttered.

Brooke looked at him, caught off guard. "Oh, hey," she said, smiling instinctively. Chloe scowled, but gave a nod to acknowledge his existence as he walked past.

Jeremy walked past them, ducking into the hallway that led to the bathrooms. He leaned against the wall and tried to calm down. His heart was pounding, but he couldn't keep the grin off his face.

His Squip appeared next to him, a smile gracing his features.

"That-that was amazing! Terrifying," Jeremy added, eyes wide, "but amazing! I didn't stutter or anything!" He pumped his fist in the air, not used to feeling victorious after a social encounter with anybody besides Michael.

"You're welcome," his Squip said smoothly.

Jeremy smiled, then frowned slightly. "I appreciate that you helped me," he said, gesturing as he spoke, "but let's not do that again, okay?"

His Squip laughed. "As I said before, Chloe and Brooke are not vital to our plan. Therefore, further interaction with them is not necessary, unless you want to speak to them again."

Jeremy shook his head resolutely. What was the point? He'd done it once, but he couldn't imagine wanting to again.

"And that's perfectly fine," his Squip said, replying to Jeremy's thoughts. "Let's get back out there and get to where we need to be, alright Jeremy?"

"Sure," he mumbled, heading back out into the mall. After a few moments, he saw the sign for the store he was looking for.  
  
As he neared the store's enterance, Jeremy could hear the sound of some kind of screamo music filtering into the mall. It grew louder as they approached, and Jeremy grimaced, but entered the store anyways.  
  
Jeremy had been right; the store was empty save for a few employees and two middle school girls standing off to the side of the shop.  
  
"Remind me again," Jeremy thought, "why exactly we're at Hot Topic?"  
  
His Squip only grinned. "You'll know why soon. Let's just look around for a bit."  
  
Jeremy grumbled as he walked, his eyes wandering the store for anything that might have made the Squip bring him here. Looking around was probably a bad idea - Jeremy's stomach turned as he remembered the very short lived,  _very_ embarrassing  emo phase he'd had in middle school. Michael had introduced him to My Chemical Romance, and Jeremy had worn nothing but band shirts, black skinny jeans, and horribly applied eyeliner for a solid month and a half. Jeremy felt his face turn red just thinking about how mortifying that phase of his life was, looking back on it now.  
  
Michael teased him relentlessly for it, but Jeremy figured he deserved it. He tried his best not to think about it, really, but being back in the store where'd he'd bought all of his "edgy" clothes stirred up a lot of memories. Jeremy nearly walked out of the store when he heard the opening notes of Welcome to the Black Parade come on over the speakers, but then he spotted something across the room.  
  
"Apocalypse of the Damned? No way!" Jeremy yelled, eyes wide as he sped over to the other side of the story. He realized how loudly he'd just shouted and flushed an even darker shade of red, shooting the employees an apologetic glance.  
  
After a few more steps and a deep breath to calm his anxiety, Jeremy reached the display that had made him screech in the first place.  
  
It was the most Apocalypse of the Damned march Jeremy had ever seen in his life. The game was his and Michael's favorite - had been since it had come out freshman year. Level Nine was legendary, nearly impossible to complete, especially on single player mode. Luckily, Jeremy could always count on his player one to have his back, and they'd beaten the level a handful of times in co-op mode.  
  
Jeremy had a lot of great memories of the game, and his eyes glowed as he soaked in all the merch in front of him. There were keychains and necklaces, earrings and bracelets. At least ten different kinds of t-shirts and hoodies were folded on the shelves, and there were various little things like pins and stickers scattered around the display. There were even Funko pop figures of the bosses from levels five and six, a rocker zombie and a geek zombie respectively.  
  
Jeremy picked up a t-shirt and unfolded it, looking at the design. It had the title of the game written on it in loopy cursive, fake blood splattered across the shirt. The level two boss, a sporty zombie girl, was pictured on one side of the shirt.  
  
Jeremy couldn't help but grin - level two had kept him and Michael busy for weeks freshman year. They'd finally beaten the level once they realized the trick was to watch the direction her ponytail flipped before an attack.  
  
Jeremy went too look at the price tag just as the Squip said, "That's a girl's shirt, Jeremy."  
  
Jeremy froze, eyes wide, and scrambled to refold the shirt and put it back where he'd found it. Blushing ferociously, he turned on his heel and made a beeline for the exit.  
  
"Jeremy. Stop."  
  
Jeremy did stop, then. Turning around, he saw that his Squip was leaning against the display that Jeremy had just fled from.  
  
His Squip crooked a finger at him, beckoning him back. Jeremy obliged, unsure exactly why he listened. Regardless, he soon found himself standing nervously in front of the shelves of merch again, gazing at his Squip. He fidgeted as he stood, waiting for his next command.  
  
How had Jeremy become so dependent on the Squip so quickly? It hadn't done much so far - told him to go back to an emo store, helped him say hello to a few of his classmates in the mall without stuttering. Even so, Jeremy already appreciated the support the Squip provided and couldn't help but wait nervously to be told what he should do next.  
  
The silence stretched on, Jeremy awkwardly standing in front of the display. He was trying not to stare at the Squip, since he was invisible to everyone else and it would like like Jeremy was just staring into space. Instead, he stared at the various hoodies and t-shirts on the shelf in front of him. While he waited for the Squip to say something, Jeremy noticed an Apocalypse of the Damned patch tucked behind some lanyards. It was embroidered with the characters that you played as in co-op mode, holding guns and standing back to back. The words "Two Players Against The World" circled the outside of the patch. There was a single player variant as well, but Jeremy ignored it in favor of grabbing one of double player ones. Just as he reached out his hand, the Squip broke the silence.  
  
"You should check your phone."  
  
Immediately, Jeremy obliged. A moment later, he looked back up at his Squip in confusions  
  
"Th-there's nothing ther—"  
  
His questioning was interrupted by the level complete sound from the original Mario game - Michael's ringtone in Jeremy's phone.  
  
Jeremy nervously opened the text from Michael.  
  
**_player one: hey dude where r u??_**  
  
Jeremy blanched, going completely still. Shit, shit, _shit_ , how could he forget he was here with Michael? How had that totally slipped Jeremy's mind?  
  
"Just text him back that you're at the Hot Topic," Jeremy's Squip said, still lazily leaning on the display.  
  
"Yeah, good idea," Jeremy muttered, typing out a quick text.  
  
"Don't say it like that," his Squip interjected before Jeremy could hit send. "You're making it sound strange. Just - invite him to meet up at the Hot Topic, and apologize for the leaving the food court."  
  
Jeremy deleted his previous text and crafted a new one, incorporating the adjustments the Squip had suggested. He waited for the Squip's approval before hitting send a few moments later.  
  
Michael responded almost immediately.  
  
**_player one: haha, going emo again jer? be right there_**  
  
Jeremy couldn't help but smile at his friend's tone. Michael was always making jokes - it was one of the things that Jeremy loved about their friendship.  
  
"Now," the Squip said, bringing Jeremy back to the present. "It's time to do what we came here for."  
  
Jeremy's pulse quickened, anxiously awaiting the Squip's next words. It had to be something really important if he'd been dragged all the way here, but what could it possibly be?  
  
"It's time," his Squip said, pausing dramatically, "to buy a new shirt."  
  
Jeremy almost laughed from how absurd it all sounded. A new shirt? He'd completely forgotten that the Squip had mentioned buying a new shirt before they'd left the food court.  
  
"This is no laughing matter, Jeremy!" his Squip snapped. "If you really want to achieve your goals, you can't just laugh at my advice. You're going to need to listen, and you're going to need to obey."  
  
This caused Jeremy to sober immediately. "S-sorry," he muttered, looking at his shoes. "I'll listen this time," he added, his face serious.  
  
"Good. Now, I think that you should purchase....this shirt."  
  
His Squip pointed to a black shirt on the lowest shelf, folded so that Jeremy couldn't see what was on it. As promised, this time Jeremy obeyed the Squip's command without hesitation. He stooped down to grab a shirt, rifling through the stack until he found one in his size.  
  
Straightening back up, he held the shirt out in front on him, letting it unfold so that Jeremy could survey its full appearance.  
  
The shirt was basic, just black and white. The back was blank, and the front had only the logo for the game. It was designed to look like a retro shirt, the logo drawn in as a pixelated outline on a background of horizontal stripes. The name of the game was also written in an 8-bit style font.  
  
Jeremy loved the shirt immediately, but he found himself frowning.  
  
"Is this really gonna help with, y'know, the, uh, goal?" Jeremy stuttered, looking at his Squip with furrowed brows. He didn't know that Christine liked video games, let alone Apocalypse of the Damned. Maybe the Squip was making a mistake - would this really help anything?  
  
The Squip simply rolled his eyes. "I heard that, and _yes_ , Jeremy. I am quite sure that this will help us reach your goal."  
  
Still, Jeremy couldn't help the feeling of doubt in his gut as he looked at he price tag on the shirt.  
  
Suddenly, ones and zeroes began to run through his Squip's eyes. Jeremy had learned that this meant the Squip was doing some kind of calculations, which he always shared a few minutes later.  
  
True to form, a few minutes after the strings of numbers had appeared, the Squip's eyes returned to normal. Fixing Jeremy with a fierce glare, he said, "And in case you've forgotten who you should and should not be doubting, I've just crunched the numbers. There is a 93.6 percent chance your crush will compliment if and when you choose to wear this shirt. So just buy the shirt, Jeremy, and start listening to me. I know what I'm doing."  
  
Jeremy's face flooded pink at being reprimanded, but he quietly apologized. His Squip dismissed the apology with a wave of his hand, telling him that he should hurry and buy his items.  
  
Jeremy complied, heading over to the register. He dumped the shirt on the counter, ready to pay, when the Squip cleared its throat purposefully.  
  
"Oh! Right," Jeremy added aloud, dropping the patch on top of the shirt. "This too, please."  
  
"You got it, dude," the girl behind the counter said, scanning the two items in quickly. "That'll be $32.15," she said lazily.  
  
Jeremy handed over the money, and she handed him a bag with his items and a receipt inside.  
  
"Have a good day," she said, already looking back to the computer in front of her.  
  
"You too," Jeremy muttered, turning to walk away from the counter. He opened his bag and peered inside as he walked, making sure both items were inside.  
  
"Jeremy!"  
  
Jeremy looked up, bewildered, at the sound of his name. Then a grin broke out across his face and he sped up towards Michael, who was standing at the entrance of the store.  
  
They fist bumped when Jeremy reached him  
  
"Sup, dude! What're you doing back at this place?" Michael asking, quirking a brow at Jeremy. "I really,  _really_ hope this isn't the start of another emo phase, because as much as I value our friendship, Jer, I don't know if I could survive that," Michael said, trying his best to sound serious.  
  
Laughter bubbled up from Jeremy's gut, and it was infectious. Soon the two boys were both laughing madly together in the doorway to Hot Topic, the girl at the counter glaring at the commotion. Jeremy didn't care - it felt so  _good_ to laugh like that, just completely and utterly happy in the moment.  
  
"It-it's not another emo phase," Jer managed to choke out between fits of laughter, "I promise!"  
  
"If you say so, Jer," Michael laughed breathily. "Anyways, what's in the bag?"  
  
The Squip appeared behind Michael then, standing with its arms crossed. Jeremy immediately became much more serious, eagerly awaiting instruction.  
  
The Squip gestured to the bag, then shook his head, insinuating that Jeremy shouldn't show Michael what was inside.  
  
"Sorry, dude," Jeremy said with a grin. "You'll just have to wait and see."  
  
Michael pouted, sticking out his lower lip adorably. "Aw, c'mon Jer! Just show me!" he implored. "Show me," he repeated, stretching out the second word to an outrageous degree.  
  
Jeremy laughed at his friend's antics, but then he realized the Squip was still hovering behind Michael. He mouthed something to Jeremy, pointing towards the bag. It only took Jeremy a few second to figure out what his Squip meant.  
  
"Oh! Right," Jeremy exclaimed. "I got something for you," he said, smiling brightly at Michael.  
  
"Aw, for me? You shouldn't have," Michael joked, holding one hand overt his heart with a grin. "But really, you shouldn't have! What're you buying me something for? Is this a bribe?"  
  
"Yep," Jeremey deadpanned, causing Michael to laugh. Then, he clarified, saying, "But really, you know that you're my favorite person. I just saw it and thought of you."  
  
The other boy's face seemed to turn slightly pink. "Aw, is it really true? I'm your _favowite pewson_?" Michael asked, snickering.  
  
Jeremy choked on a laugh, and Michael shot him a grin.  
  
"Yeah, whatever. Maybe I won't give it to you," Jeremy replied, still laughing. It was an empty threat though, since Jeremy was reaching into the bag to retrieve the patch even as he said it.  
  
"Now, close your eyes and hold out your hands," Jeremy commanded. Michael obliged.  
  
Jeremy carefully put the patch in Michael's open palm, making sure the text was facing the right way so Michael could read it.  
  
"Alright, open," Jeremy said nervously.  
  
Michael opened his eyes, and then let out an excited gasp. His whole face was glowing as he looked up at Jeremy. "This is awesome dude!" he said excitedly. "I'm totally gonna put it on my —"  
  
"Hoodie," Jeremy interjected, finishing Michael's thought. "I was thinking you might do that," he added, glad that Michael seemed pleased.  
  
Michael looked at Jeremy, eyes filled with happiness and something else that Jeremy couldn't quite place. "Thanks so much, man," Michael said, smiling at Jeremy. "I really love it."  
  
"No problem," Jeremy replied, smiling back.  
  
His Squip, which had been surveying the scene from the side, gave Jeremy an encouraging thumbs up before disappearing from sight.  
  
"So," Jeremy continued awkwardly. "Wanna head back to your place for some video games?"  
  
"You know it!" Michael replied, carefully putting his new patch into his front pocket for safe keeping.  
  
They chatted about nothing as they left the mall and walked towards Michael's PT Cruiser. Jeremy climbed in the passengers side and Michael got behind the wheel. Making sure to connect his phone to the speaker and start his playlist first, Michael turned the key and they began the short drive home.  
  
Jeremy always enjoyed driving with Michael. He liked Michael's eclectic music taste, and the way that sometimes, his best friend would sing along to the songs that played through the speaker. He liked the way the wind whipped through his hair, since they always drove with the windows down. He liked being able to just sit and be with Michael, uninterrupted, no responsibilities beyond simply being for the minutes it took them to get from wherever they were to wherever they were going.  
  
When they arrived at Michael's house, they headed down to the basement the way they always did. The two boys fell into a comfortable routine, getting ready to play video games the same way they had since Michael had first gotten a television in his basement in seventh grade.  
  
The two beanbags were on the ground in front of the tv, which Jeremy turned on and got set up while Michael grabbed the remote controls and the game.  
  
Jeremy had already settled into his respective bean bag (it was the one on the right) when Michael emerged with the controllers and the game disc.  
  
He handed Jeremy the dark blue controller and kept the red one for himself, as always. Michael crouched down, popping the disc into the console.  
  
As the machine whirred to life, Michael plopped down into his beanbag chair next to Jeremy. "I figured Apocalypse of the Damned was an okay choice," he said, clicked on the game once it came up on the screen.  
  
"You know me so well," Jeremy quipped, already excited to bash some zombie skulls.  
  
"Wanna try out level nine?" Michael asked, turning to Jeremy with one brow raised.  
  
"Sure, let's do it!" Jeremy said enthusiastically. "C'mon, player one! Let's kill some zombies!" He called out, excitement clear in his tone.  
  
Michael laughed at his best friend's sudden energy, but quickly stopped when the level began. The shouts and groans of the two boys escalated as the level went on.  
  
"Watch out Jeremy!"  
  
"Michael, behind you!"  
  
"Ah, blood!"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Agh!"  
  
"Aw."  
  
Both boys sighed, "Level Failed" flashing on the screen in red.  
  
"Stupid zombies," Jeremy muttered. "I always forget about those ones in the walk in freezer."  
  
"Me too, man," Michael said, nodding. "Wanna try again?"  
  
Jeremy grinned at him. "Hell yes!"  
  
The rest of the night was spent the same way, just Jeremy and Michael against the world - or, in this case, hordes of the undead.  
  
While they played, Jeremy's Squip was mostly silent, observing. A few times, he gave Jeremy suggestions on what to say, which Jeremy gratefully took. Besides that, it was just like every other night the two boys had spent hanging out together.  
  
They ate junk food and drank pop until their guts ached, and laughed so hard Jeremy spewed Pepsi out of his nose ("Oh god, it  _burns_ Michael!").  It was almost 3:00am by the time they fell asleep, mumbling tiredly to each other in the dark before they passed out.  
  
"Hey Jer?" Michael asked, his voice heavy with sleep.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Thanks again for that patch," Michael said, yawning. "It's really cool."  
  
Jeremy smiled sleepily to himself. "You're welcome," he said, although it came out slightly slurred due to exhaustion. "G'night, Michael," he added quietly, struggling to keep his eyes open.  
  
Jeremy almost thought Michael had fallen asleep, his breathing soft and even in the quiet room, but then he heard his friend's sleepy reply.  
  
"Night, Jer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was so surprised by the amount of positive attention last chapter received, so i hope this one lives up to your expectations! i meant for this chapter to go farther plotwise but here take this fluff instead (also if anybody caught my reference to another bmc fic in here uhhh lemme know in the comments ill love you forever!!)
> 
> anyways! leave a comment if you wanna improve my day by 7000%, i'm gonna try to work on chapter three later today (since it's 1am whoOPS!) so see you then!!
> 
> come say hi to me on [tumblr!](https://choking-onholywater.tumblr.com)


	3. repeat after me

"Jeremy.  _Jeremy._ You need to get up."  
  
Jeremy groaned, pulling his pillow around his head. "Five more minutes," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. He burrowed farther into his blankets, nearly falling back asleep.  
  
"C'mon, Jeremy," the voice cooed. "It's a big day today!"  
  
When Jeremy didn't respond, the voice tried again.  
  
"Jeremy, if you don't get up right now, I'll make you get up and out of bed myself."  
  
That got Jeremy's attention. His eyes flew open and the relaxation of sleep was forgotten in a panicked haze as he attempted to make it clear that he was awake. He sat up quickly, pushing his blankets down into his lap.  
  
"I'm up, I'm up!" he practically yelled, making sure that the source of the threat knew there was no need to follow through.  
  
After rubbing the bleariness from his eyes, Jeremy scanned his room for who'd woken him up.  
  
His Squip was sitting on his desk, one leg hanging off the side. He smiled lazily at Jeremy, who glared in response.  
  
"I apologize for the threat," he said, "but you weren't getting up. I wasn't lying when I said it was a big day."  
  
Jeremy fell backwards into his pillow with a groan. "What time is it, anyways? Can't I sleep some more?" he pleaded, clutching his blankets around him. His bed was _so_ warm, and a few more minutes of sleep sounded _really_ nice....  
  
"Jeremy."  
  
He could tell that the Squip wasn't going to budge. "Fine, fine, I'm getting up," Jeremy moaned, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed. He already missed the warmth of his blankets, and as much as he wanted to curl back up into bed, he knew that his Squip wouldn't let him.  
  
A quick glance at the clock told him that it was 5:15 am.  
  
"Why the fuck am I up so early?" Jeremy whined. He usually didn't get up for another hour at least!  
  
"Watch the tone, Jeremy," his Squip warned. "We have a lot to do to prepare for today, so I decided that waking up early would be necessary."  
  
Just as Jeremy was about to ask what the big deal about today was, it came to him. He slapped a hand to his forehead, wondering how he could've forgotten. It was the first day he would be going to school since he'd gotten his Squip.  
  
"Yes," his Squip said, responding to Jeremy's unspoken realization. "And seeing as that is the case, we need to ensure that today goes well."  
  
Jeremy nodded sleepily, standing up. He headed for the door, figuring he might as well take a shower if he was already up.  
  
"A shower would be wise, but before you go, we need to talk," his Squip said, voice serious.  
  
Pulling his hand back from the doorknob, Jeremy turned to look at his Squip. He was standing with his arms crossed a few feet away from Jeremy, all business. Jeremy had a sudden urge to laugh at the absurd scene: him standing only in his boxers, halfway out the door, staring expectantly at a serious, suit-clad Keanu Reeves that only he could see. When had his life gotten so _weird?_  
  
(Jeremy knew the answer - it was when he decided to buy and take a questionable Japanese pill from the back of a shoe store.)  
  
He squelched the urge to laugh down and simply said, "About what?"  
  
"You trust me, don't you Jeremy?"  
  
Jeremy nodded, slightly uncomfortable. Why was he asking?  
  
"I only ask," his Squip intoned, "because it will be vital to our success - to _your_  success - that you trust me today. As we will be surrounded by your peers, I will be a lot more...." his Squip paused, Keanu's features creasing with the effort of finding the right words.  
  
"Active," he said, finally settling on a word. "I will be a lot more active today, Jeremy, and all other school days. School is a minefield, but it is one that we can navigate - if we work together. I will be speaking to you more, both with instructions and verbal cues that you will need to repeat. I won't always be visible to you, but it is imperative that you listen to what I say and follow through. It is especially important that you don't hesitate in parroting my phrases when I expect you to; uncomfortable pauses before you speak will cause others to think you're strange."  
  
Jeremy swallowed thickly, the Squip's words causing a small amount of dread to begin growing in his stomach. Jeremy nervously ran his hands through his hair, staring at his Squip.  
  
"O-okay," he said. "You'll, uh, be more active. Got it."  
  
Suddenly, the Squip was a lot closer to Jeremy than before, only about a foot away. "This isn't a game, Jeremy. You need to take this seriously. Tell me that you understand the rules here; that you understand that you will have to do what I instruct, repeat what I tell you to, follow my commands completely in order to guarantee success."  
  
Jeremy instinctively scrambled backwards, away from his Squip. He bumped into the wooden door behind him with a soft thud, eyes wide. In the three days since he'd gotten his Squip, he'd never seen it act so intense. It scared Jeremy a little, all the talk of _obey this_  and _command that_.  
  
Sensing Jeremy's fear, his Squip relented. He backed away slightly, resuming a more relaxed posture against Jeremy's wall. "I didn't mean to alarm you," he said, observing Jeremy's shaking hands and shallow breathing. "I only meant to impress upon you the importance of listening to my instructions and reacting in a timely fashion. We can achieve your goals, Jeremy, I promise, but only if you listen."  
  
His Squip set a comforting hand on Jeremy's shoulder (he couldn't physically touch Jeremy, but the gesture was understood regardless). Jeremy flinched away, dread curling up his spine at the tone the Squip was using.  
  
The Squip relented further, backing away to perch on Jeremy's desk with a sigh. "I'm sorry for scaring you, Jeremy. I still won't control your body, and you aren't being forced to do anything that I say. All I meant was that I can only promise you success if you _do_."  
  
Jeremy said nothing, staring at his bare feet.  
  
The Squip sighed again. "I can see that my choice of phrase has shaken you, and for that I apologize. Go take your shower. I will temporarily block myself from access to your thoughts and give you some time alone. When you return, we can get ready for the day. Alright?"  
  
Mumbling something that resembled an agreement, Jeremy slipped out the door, closing it behind him with a soft click.  
  
Out in the hall, he leaned against the closed door, breathing heavily. He slid to the floor, back against the door.  He wasn't sure exactly what had triggered this episode, just that the way his Squip had been talking had made anxiety explode through his veins. After a few moments spent regaining his breath, Jeremy pushed himself off the ground and headed for the bathroom.  
  
He turned on the shower and waited for the water to heat up before he pulled off his boxers and stepped in, pulling the curtain closed. The hot water felt nice, washing the drowsiness from his body and calming him down. He let out a content sigh and closed his eyes, just enjoying the feeling of the hot water on his skin.  
  
After a few minutes, he opened his eyes and squirted some shampoo into his hand. Scrubbing his hair, he replayed the conversation with his Squip over again in his mind.  
  
The words that the Squip had used had admittedly been a bit intense, but the more Jeremy thought about it, the more he became convinced he'd overreacted. It wasn't like the Squip had threatened him, or told him he didn't have any choice in what happened. All he'd said was that unless Jeremy listened and followed instructions, the Squip couldn't promise anything. That seemed pretty fair to Jeremy, now that he was looking back in it from the comfort of a nice shower.  
  
He hummed as he finished rinsing the soap from his hair, suds dripping down his back and into the floor. The anxiety in his gut had mostly subsided, and Jeremy didn't find himself panicking over the idea of following the Squip's commands anymore.  
  
Everything had gone well with the Squip so far, so why shouldn't Jeremy trust him?  
  
After washing his face and spending a few more minutes just enjoying the steady rhythm of the water, Jeremy turned off the shower and stepped out into the bathroom. He quickly realized he hadn't grabbed any clothes. Instead, he wrapped a towel around his waist and cracked open the door. Seeing that no one was in the hall, Jeremy speed walked down the hall to his room and slipped inside.  
  
He grabbed a clean pair of boxers, his favorite pair of skinny jeans, and a random t-shirt that he was pretty sure was clean. He walked back into the hall and into the bathroom, dropping the towel and changing into his new clothes.  
  
Jeremy brushed his teeth and dried his hair, attempting to force it into a presentable style. As usual, it refused to comply. He sighed, but knew there was no point wasting his time - his hair was gonna do what it was gonna do. Jeremy had long since accepted it.  
  
After scrutinizing his appearance for a minute, Jeremy sighed, accepting that this was the best he could do. He hung his towel up over the shower curtain and opened the door, stepping back into the hall.  
  
When he opened his door, Jeremy saw that the Squip had returned. He sat on the edge of Jeremy's desk, unmoving.  
  
Suddenly, his Squip came to life, rising from the desk and taking a step towards Jeremy. "Welcome back. As I said before, I do apologize for scaring you. I was only trying to make sure you understood everything that was at stake —"  
  
This time, it was Jeremy who cut him off. "Don't worry about it. I was still tired, and I overreacted. I understand," he said carefully. "And I trust you. So where should I start?"  
  
His Squip smiled, a relieved smile appearing on his face. "I was going to suggest wearing your new shirt today," he said, gesturing to the Hot Topic bag by the end of Jeremy's bed.  
  
"Oh, right! I almost forgot that I bought that," Jeremy said, dumping the bag onto his bed. "Yeah, sure, I'll wear it today. And you're sure that it's gonna go over well?"  
  
The Squip rolled his eyes. "I told you Jeremy, 93.6 percent. 93.6 percent."  
  
Jeremy laughed lightly, pulling the t-shirt he was wearing over his head. He tossed it onto the floor in favor of pulling the Apocalypse of the Damned shirt on. It fit him comfortably, and he couldn't help but smile, thinking of how much fun he and Michael had had playing on Friday.  
  
Speaking of Michael, Jeremy glanced at the clock. It was already 6:55 - Michael would be there any minute to drive them to school.  
  
Jeremy grabbed his backpack off the floor, doing a quick check to make sure everything was inside. Slinging it over his shoulder, he pulled open his bedroom door and walked into the hall. His Squip followed, ghosting behind him as Jeremy bounded downstairs.  
  
Just as he stuffed an apple and a granola bar in his bag, Jeremy heard a car horn beeping outside. A smile lit up his face and he headed for the door, but his Squip appeared in front of him. Jeremy paused, one brow raised, and waited for his Squip to say what it needed to say.  
  
"Remember what we talked about, Jeremy," he said quietly. Then he stepped aside, allowing Jeremy to exit the house  
  
Jeremy blinked, then shrugged it off and opened the door to go outside. He checked that it was securely locked behind him and turned to walk down the driveway, his grin returning at the sight of his friend's PT Cruiser in the driveway.  
  
Jeremy could hear Michael's music before he even got into the car, and his smile grew.  
  
"Morning, Jer!" Michael said as Jeremy hopped into the passenger seat.  
  
"Hey," he said in reply, pulling his backpack off his shoulders.  
  
Michael was about to pull out of the driveway when he stopped and did a double take, staring at Jeremy. Immediately, Jeremy felt his stomach flip - was there something on his face? Was his hair a mess? Had he put his pants on without zipping them? A million embarrassing possibilities flitted through his brain, but none of them were what Michael said next.  
  
"Is that an Apocalypse of the Damned shirt?" he exclaimed, eyes alight. "That's awesome, Jeremy, where'd you get it?"  
  
Jeremy grinned bashfully at the attention, his face pleasantly warm. "Actually, uh, I bought it at Hot Topic on Friday," he said.  
  
"Oh, so _that's_ what you were buying!" Michael said, laughing. "Nice, dude!"  
  
The two boys settled into comfortable silence as Michael backed out of Jeremy's driveway and started driving towards school.  The sound of Michael's music drifted through the speakers, and as always, Jeremy enjoyed the peacefulness of the drive to school.  
  
"It looks good on you," Michael blurted out, suddenly breaking the silence. "The, uh, the shirt I mean. It looks nice."  
  
Michael's hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly, face slightly pink.  
  
Jeremy was caught off guard. "Oh! Th-thanks," he said, laughing awkwardly.  
  
_Tell him his hoodie looks nice._  
  
Jeremy wasn't used to hearing his Squip without seeing it, but it was easy enough to recognize his voice. With a deep breath, Jeremy decided to listen.  
  
"Your hoodie looks good, too," he said, surprised he didn't stutter.  
  
Michael gave him a weird look. "Thanks," he said. Then he laughed. "It's the same one I've been wearing since freshman year," he added, pulling at the sleeve of his red hoodie, "but thanks."  
  
"Oh! I know, yeah, it's just - uh, it always makes me...happy when you wear it?"  
  
Jeremy stumbled over his words, not sure how to continue the conversation without his Squip providing the dialogue.  
  
It was true, though; Jeremy did love that hoodie. It had been just a plain red hoodie when Michael had gotten it, and Jeremy had slowly watched it transform into what it was now. Each of the patches had a certain significance, and Jeremy had been around for nearly all of them. It made him happy because it was just so _Michael_ , and the fact that he'd been wearing it for years just cemented that fact.  
  
"You feeling okay, Jer?" Michael asked, giving him a sideways glance.  
  
"I'm fine, just a weird morning," Jeremy replied.  
  
_I'm better because I'm with you._  
  
"I'm always better when I'm with you, though," he added, grinning sheepishly at his best friend.  
  
Michael's eyes grew wide, and he nearly jerked the car into the next lane. "You're _sure_ you're okay, Jeremy? You're acting..." he paused, surveying Jeremy out of the corner of his eye. "Weird," he finished lamely.  
  
"Absolutely sure," Jeremy said, nodding resolutely.  
  
"O-kay, then," Michael drawled. "Got any song requests? We've got at least ten minutes until we get to school."  
  
_Whatever you want is fine - you've got great taste in music._  
  
Jeremy gave a small shrug. "Anything you wanna play is fine. Your music taste is way better than mine, anyways," he admitted.  
  
Michael made a small choking sound, but turned up the music anyways.  
  
Jeremy stared out the window, bobbing his head slightly to the beat of the music. His Squip hadn't been lying when he said he was gonna take it up a notch for today - he'd told Jeremy what to say more in the last two minutes than he had in the last three days combined. Jeremy hoped he'd done an alright job of taking the Squip's cues, of making sure that there weren't any weird pauses.  
  
He and Michael rode in amicable silence for the rest of the drive, enjoying the music playing through the stereo and the rapidly changing color of the sky.  
  
When they arrived at school, the two boys got out of the car and walked side by side up the stairs and into the building. They followed their usual path through the school, ducking between their classmates down the hall until they reached the end of the hall. Jeremy, who had physics first period, had to go left, while Michael, who had graphic design, had to go to the right.  
  
_Bump your shoulder against Michael's. Tell him that you'll see him later._  
  
Jeremy did as his Squip suggested, gently nudging Michael's arm with his own. "Have fun in graphic design, dude - see you in lunch!" He smiled at his friend as he turned, heading towards the science room.  
  
Suddenly, his Squip appeared next to him. Jeremy almost jumped, but managed to keep walking as though Keanu Reeves _wasn't_  hovering right next to him.  
  
"You're doing very well," he observed. "If you can keep this up, we'll be able to reach your goal in no time."  
  
"You think so?" Jeremy asked, not even needing to remind himself not to speak aloud.  
  
"Absolutely," his Squip confirmed with a nod. "That was all I wanted to say. I'll leave you to your classes now," his Squip said. Then he disappeared.  
  
Jeremy shook his head, barely even phased by the strangeness of the interaction he'd just had. He crossed into his physics classroom and put down his bag, settling into his desk for forty minutes of taking notes on whatever topic they were covering that day.  
  
When the bell rang, Jeremy stood up and grabbed his bag from where it hung on the back of his chair. He hadn't been paying much attention, but he hadn't fallen asleep in class either, so he counted it as a win.  
  
Jeremy drifted through his English class and his study hall, nothing particularly interesting happening. They were going to start reading Macbeth in English, and Jeremy spent his study hall staring out the window and doodling on a scrap sheet of paper. Music theory had passed equally uneventfully, and the bell had signaled the end of the class before Jeremy knew it.  
  
He saw Michael in the hall on his way to fifth period French, grinning and raising a hand in greeting per the Squip's instruction. Michael had grinned back, nearly running into a wall because he was looking at Jeremy instead of where he was going. Jeremy had burst out laughing, and so had he.  
  
Jeremy was still laughing softly to himself when he walked into French class. He pulled out his chair and sat down, sliding his backpack onto the back of his chair. He liked French, and he liked the view from his desk: he could see right out the window, and the second floor classroom had a beautiful view of the forest that edged up against the school.  
  
Jeremy leaned his face against his fist, elbow propped up on the table, and stared outside. The trees were rustling in the wind, and the sky was a beautiful shade of blue. Jeremy gave a contented sigh.  
  
It didn't last long.  
  
"And _apparently_ , Mr. Heere is too good to do his warmup work like the rest of us," Jeremy's French teacher said, snapping Jeremy's attention back to the present. A few students snickered and Jeremy felt his face go red.  
  
"I-I'm sorry, I was just - uh..." Jeremy couldn't think of anything to say, tripping over his words.  
  
"No, no! By all means, if you don't  _need_ to do your warmup, impress us with your knowledge of the French language!" His teacher was fuming, staring expectantly at Jeremy. "Let's hear your response to the warmup, then!"  
  
Jeremy's pulse was racing, his hands slick with sweat. He could hardly breathe - what was he even supposed to say? He glanced towards the board, barely able to read through his panic. It might've said something about the weekend?  
  
Jeremy's teacher continued to stare at him, arms crossed. "Come on, Mr. Heere! Regale us with your French!"  
  
Jeremy sensed the panic closing in on him, could practically feel his mind nearing a breakdown. Then suddenly, without warning, it all stopped, and Jeremy began to speak rapid, perfect French.  
  
"J'ai eu un bon weekend. Vendredi, je suis allé au center commercial avec mon ami meilleur. Nous avons joués aux jeux vidéos après nous sommes rentrés chez lui. Quand je suis parti, je suis allé à ma maison pour se reposer and faire mes devoirs. J'éspère que vous avez aimé entendre parler de mon week-end - la prochaine fois, ne doutez pas ma capacité de parler en français," he said, spitting the last sentence sarcastically before crumpling down into his seat.  
  
The class - and the teacher - were stunned. So was Jeremy; he struggled with basic speaking exams. How the hell had he managed to do _that_?  
  
_You're welcome,_  his Squip's voice echoed inside his head.  
  
"Well. Thank you for that, Mr. Heere."  
  
Jeremy was worried his teacher was going to give him detention. Instead his teacher, grumbled something about hating high schoolers and let it slide. Jeremy released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Thank god his Squip had leapt in and saved the day - Jeremy was sure that without him, he would've been walking down to the office right now, and probably would've ended up in detention.  
  
_Like I said: you're welcome._  
  
Jeremy was careful to do his best to stay on course for the rest of class, not letting his mind wander. He didn't want to risk giving the teacher a reason to send him to the office.  
  
Jeremy had never been more relieved to hear the ear-splitting sound of the bell in his life. He practically ran out of the room, grateful to be out of the tense atmosphere.  
  
Jeremy's bad mood didn't last long; he remembered almost as soon as he walked out of the room that it was sixth period. That meant it was time for lunch, which really meant a whole period of laughing and goofing off with Michael.  
  
He grinned, twisting his lock and pulling his locker open. He shoved his French binder inside and snagged his history binder, which he'd need after lunch. Then, he closed his locker and headed towards the cafeteria, excited to unwind with his best friend for a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. THIS CHAPTER WAS ORIGINALLY LIKE 7K WORDS AND I HAD TO SPLIT IT UP BECAUSE IT WAS TOO MUCH. also im exhausted its like 3am? i hope this is okay and im gonna check it for errors tomorrow when i wake up but yeah uhhhh heres the translation???? i did most of this on my own based on my actual level of french knowledge so if u speak french and something is wrong please correct me
> 
> _J'ai eu un bon weekend. _= I had a good weekend.__  
>  _Vendredi, je suis allé au center commercial avec mon ami meilleur. _= On Friday, i went to the mall with my best friend.__  
>  _Nous avons joués aux jeux vidéos après nous sommes rentrés chez lui. _= We played video games after we got back to his house.__  
>  _Quand je suis parti, je suis allé à ma maison pour as reposer and faire mes devoirs. _= When I left, i went to my house to relax and do my homework.__  
>  _J'éspère que vous avez aimé entendre parler de mon week-end. _= I hope you liked hearing me talk about my weekend.__  
>  _La prochaine fois, ne doutez pas ma capacité de parler en français. _= Next time, don't doubt my ability to speak in French.__
> 
> oh also [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12088206/chapters/27398415) was the fic i referenced in the last chapter, it's where the idea of the rocker and geek zombies in apocalypse in the damned came from!!! check it out my dudes it's a really great fic !!
> 
> aaaaand thats all, chapter 4 will be out within 24 hours!!! leave me a comment please, they make me super happy! and check me out on tumblr if you feel so obliged (im @choking-onholywater there).  
> thanks for reading!!!!


	4. jeremy heere and the terrible, no good, very bad anxious day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen this is literally 7k please just take it

Walking into the school cafeteria always made Jeremy's stomach roll. He'd been mocked and laughed at more times than he could count inside that room, and it was always loud and chaotic, like walking into a war zone. 

It was worth it, though, to have a chance to eat some food and hang out with Michael. 

After a deep breath, Jeremy pushed open the doors and stepped inside. He quickly scanned the room, his eyes zoning in on the bright red of Michael's hoodie. He made his way over to the table where Michael sat, careful to avoid bumping into anyone. 

As he approached, he saw the Michael was wearing his headphones, eyes closed. This usually meant that Michael was feeling overwhelmed - music was his favorite was to escape the world when it grew to be too much. 

Jeremy settled down next to his best friend at the table, careful not to disturb him. 

After a few minutes, Michael opened his eyes and glanced around, jumping slightly when he saw Jeremy next to him. He grinned and pulled his headphones down around his neck.

"Hey dude!" he said, grinning. "How's it going?"

Jeremy grinned back at him. "It's pretty good - almost got killed for slacking in French, but it all worked out."

Michael looked mildly concerned, but still let out a small chuckle. He looked tired, and Jeremy frowned, unsure of what to do next. 

_Ask him what he was listening to._

Jeremy did, thanking his lucky stars that his Squip had decided to kick in just then. "So, what were you listening to?"

The boy next to him seemed surprised at being asked. "Oh! Uh - I'm not really sure," he answered. "It just came up on my explore playlist and I was like 'huh, I can dig this' and then I just let it play," he said, his words coming out with a forced chipper tone. 

_Ask him what's wrong._

Jeremy almost rolled his eyes. As clueless as he could sometimes be, he didn't need a supercomputer to tell him to care about his best friend. Still, he obliged. 

"C'mon Michael, what's going on?"

Michael looked down at the table. He didn't say anything for a few moments. Then he looked up at Jeremy, frowning.

"It's been a rough day, man. I dunno what's up with me today." His voice cracked slightly on the last word of his sentence. 

_Ask if anything happened._

Again, Jeremy felt a prickle of resentment at the assumption that he wouldn't care for Michael on his own, but he let it slide. 

"Did something happen in your classes?"

The white headphone's on Michael's neck glinted as he shook his head. "I was just sitting in study hall last period, relaxing and doing math homework, and then suddenly everything was just too loud..." he trailed off, uncertain. 

"It's nothing. I just didn't get enough sleep last night," Michael said, avoiding Jeremy's eyes. He plastered on a fake grin, speaking as if he were trying to convince himself as much as Jeremy. 

_Grab his hand. Tell him it's okay._

Ignoring the now-familiar twinge of annoyance at being told how to care for his best friend of twelve years, Jeremy nevertheless followed the Squip's instructions. 

Michael's hand was sitting on the table, so Jeremy placed his own hand on top and curled his fingers underneath Michael's palm so that he was holding Michael's hand. Jeremy thought he heard Michael's breathe hitch, but he figured that it was just a side effect of his friend trying to deal with whatever was bothering him. 

"Michael. Look at me," Jeremy said, softly. 

Michael looked up at Jeremy from under his glasses, a million emotions chasing through his eyes. 

"It's totally okay to feel like that sometimes," Jeremy said, instinctively using his thumb to trace patterns onto the back of Michael's hand. "Hell, I almost had a breakdown in French," Jeremy laughed. He sobered quickly, looking at Michael again. 

"But really, you can deal with this. So what if you got a little overwhelmed? It happens to the best of us. You're my player one, man, and I care about you. Just lemme know if I can do anything, okay?" Jeremy asked. He let his hand rest in Michael's for an extra moment before giving it a squeeze and letting go. 

Michael seemed to deflate slightly at the loss of touch, but he looked a bit better than he had before Jeremy's pep talk. 

"Wow, uh - thanks, Jer," Michael said with an uncomfortable laugh, his face slightly pink. "I really appreciate that."

"No problem," Jeremy replied with a grin. 

A small silence began to stretch between them, and Jeremy did his best to break it. 

"So, how was the pre-calc quiz?"

Michael blinked. "It - uh, wasn't too bad actually. It was actually pretty easy."

"Hell yes! I don't think I could handle another quiz like the last one," Jeremy exclaimed, shuddering at the memory. 

"Mhm," Michael hummed, staring distractedly at his hands. 

Jeremy felt his brows draw together in concern. Hadn't they just talked about was bugging Michael? Jeremy would've thought that Michael should be feeling _better_ , not _worse_. 

Jeremy reached out for his friend's hand again and Michael nearly jumped out of his skin when their fingers brushed. He did, however, actually jump out of his seat. His face was tinged red, and he hastily gathered his things, mumbling something about having forgotten that he had to work a graphic on a graphic design project that period.

Jeremy watched in confusion as Michael's  red hoodie grew farther and farther away, disappearing out the cafeteria door. He didn't know what he'd done wrong - was Michael mad at him?

"Obviously, he's not angry with you," Jeremy's Squip said. He was sitting on top of the lunch table, staring out the door Michael had just left. 

"Obviously, huh?" Jeremy asked, voice tinged with bitterness. "Yeah, right, that's why he just left me in the middle of the cafeteria."

His Squip looked at him then, eyes glowing with a strange light. "Don't worry, Jeremy. This isn't necessarily a bad thing. I'd give it about 5 minutes, then send Michael a text message asking how he's doing and telling him that you're thinking of him."

Jeremy nodded uncertainly. He supposed that made sense, and besides, if Michael was feeling overwhelmed, it made sense for him to need some time alone. Even if he'd never needed time alone from Jeremy before. 

It was fine. Jeremy was fine. 

It wasn't like his bad mood had come back with a vengeance now that the only thing he'd been looking forward to had walked out the door. It wasn't like he didn't know what to do with himself without his player one by his side. It wasn't like he could feel the first prickles of tears behind his eyes, could sense the tightness in his chest that always came before he cried. 

It _definitely_ wasn't like Jeremy felt a horrible, unbearable heavy pain in his chest as he thought about Michael walking away from him. 

Jeremy rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, wishing he was anywhere besides the stuffy, loud cafeteria. He tried his best to focus on his breathing - _in, out, in, out_ \- keeping it as even as possible. He stared at the fluorescent lights overhead, willing away the tears that threatened to appear.

Jeremy stayed like that for several minutes, staring at the lights, breathing slowly. His chest ached, and he didn't know why. He considered that it might be leftover from his near panic attack in French class, but quickly dismissed the thought. This was different, somehow. Jeremy couldn't quite put his finger on how - just that it was different. 

Eventually, the stinging in his eyes subsided. With a heavy sigh, Jeremy blinked and looked away from the light. His breathing had settled back to normal, and the strange feeling in his chest had mostly dissipated. 

An anxious energy course through him, and Jeremy couldn't help but bounce his leg under the table. It bothered him that he'd gotten so worked up just then. There was really no reason for it, was there? It wasn't like he and Michael had fought. There had been no harsh words, no angry glances, and certainly no yelling. Jeremy had no reason to think that there was anything going on besides exactly what Michael had said, that he needed to work on a graphic design project. 

Except that there clearly  _was_ something going on. 

Michael had obviously been upset, and nothing Jeremy had said had made a difference. Jeremy hated feeling helpless like that, foundering uselessly without actually being able to help. He hated seeing Michael hurting, hated it more than anything.

Suddenly, a thick coil of dread began to twist in Jeremy's gut. 

What if Jeremy had done something wrong? 

The thought made him feel sick, but it made sense. If Michael was upset _because_ of Jeremy, it would make sense that he wouldn't find comfort in Jeremy's words, that he would want to get away as soon as possible. 

The ugly feeling constricted in Jeremy's gut, squeezing his insides. 

There was no other explanation, really. Jeremy racked his brains for what possibly could have gone so wrong between lunch and when he and Michael had parted ways that morning, but came up blank.

And then it came to him.

"Stupid, stupid, _stupid!_ " Jeremy muttered under his breath. "Why would you touch him when he was already in overload? He probably just wanted to be left alone, but  _no,_ you had to give him a big speech and invade his personal space! _Fuck!_ Good going Jeremy, you fucked it all up! Of course you messed it up, you mess up everything!" 

His breaths were becoming shallow again, his leg shaking frantically. Jeremy could recognize a breakdown, and this certainly felt like the start of one.  

He was about to stand up and go to the bathroom so that he could at least have his panic attack in the relative privacy of a stall his Squip's cool voice broke through the anxious haze. 

"Jeremy. You need to calm down."

His Squip was still on top of the lunch table, legs stretch out onto one of the chairs. He looked completely at ease despite the din around him, and Jeremy couldn't help but be annoyed at his collected appearance.

"Right. Because it's just that easy," Jeremy spat, voice venomous. "I just fucked everything up with Michael because I was listening to _your_ advice and now he's gone! Do you know how much it sucks to have to sit by yourself at lunch? It's the biggest 'I'm a loser!' sign you can possibly have in high school!"

Jeremy glared at his Squip, his panic replaced by anger: anger at his Squip for being so relaxed while Jeremy fell apart, anger at all the stupid teens around him who couldn't shut up for even five seconds so that Jeremy could think, but most of all, anger at himself for whatever he'd done to mess things up with Michael. 

"Y'know," Jeremy added, breathing heavily. "I haven't had to sit by myself in the lunchroom since Michael had the flu freshman year. I don't even know what the hell I'm supposed to  _do_ during lunch, now that he's not here."

Jeremy could taste how pathetic the words were, a bitter flavor on his tongue, but it was the truth. He and Michael were a package deal. They were a pair. And without his other half, Jeremy felt lost. 

Jeremy's Squip sat up and looked at him intently. 

"For starters," he said, his tone still to casual for Jeremy's liking, "you could send him that text like you said you were going to ten minutes ago."

Jeremy glanced at the wall, then did a double take. 

"Fuck!" he exclaimed quietly, fumbling for his phone. Had it really been fifteen minutes since Michael had left? 

Jeremy struggled to unlock his phone, his hands slick with sweat. He'd completely missed the five minute mark that he'd set earlier. What if Michael thought he didn't care? What if something was seriously wrong? 

"There's nothing seriously wrong, Jeremy," his Squip said lazily. He was still lounging on the table, although now his legs were hanging over the edge instead of resting on a chair. "Trust me. As I have told you, I have access to infinite timelines and futures, and Michel is fine. I am 95.8 percent sure of it." 

Jeremy glanced up from his phone to shoot the Squip a cold glare. "I don't give a fuck about your percentages. Michael is my _friend_ ," he said, measuring each word carefully. "I'm supposed to check up on him when I know he isn't okay."

Then he went back to his phone, struggling to type out what he wanted to say. He didn't even know what he wanted to say. 

All he knew was that he had to say _something_. 

After a few minutes of frantic typing, erasing, and rephrasing, Jeremy was just ready to send his text. Carefully, Jeremy reread his text for typos. Finding none, he carefully hit send and watched as the bar at the top of his phone showed the message being delivered. 

**_player two: hey michael im sorry for pushing you. i hate seeing you upset. text me._ **

Jeremy out his phone down with a sigh. He felt exhausted, but at least he wasn't on the brink of a breakdown anymore. 

He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table. He rested his head in his arms, breathing in the soothing scent of his cardigan (it smelled like vanilla and detergent). 

Jeremy couldn't help but nervously check his phone for notifications every thirty seconds. The seconds dragged on into a minute, then from one minute to more.

After five minutes, Jeremy tapped out another nervous message. 

_**playertwo: just send me a quick text so i know you're okay.** _

A few minutes after that, there was still no response. Jeremy's anxiety was through the roof.

**_playertwo: michael??_ **

**_playertwo: are you there dude??_ **

**_playertwo: just text me_ **

**_playertwo: michael come on_ **

**_playertwo: ?????_ **

Just as Jeremy was about to send another text, the typing icon popped up next to Michael's name.

**_playerone: yeah sorry! im fine, no worries._ **

Michael let out a breath he didn't know, he was holding, relief flooding his body. He typed out a quick reply, hoping to catch Michael before he went back to whatever he was doing. 

_**playertwo: you're all good. see you later?** _

_**playerone: yeah, see you then!!** _

Jeremy put his phone in his pocket, resting his head on the table. He felt exhausted, the two near breakdowns he'd had that day catching up to him. 

He groaned, realizing that he was only halfway through the day, and he still had to get through the pre-calc quiz. 

Just then, his Squip appeared, sitting next to him. "What did I tell you, Jeremy? He's perfectly fine," he said, a small smirk on his face. 

Jeremy glared. "Shut up," he said scathingly. He knew that his panic had been irrational, but he would be damned if he was gonna let some snarky Keanu Reeves lookalike mock him for it.

His Squip laughed lightly at that. "Fine, fine," he said, waving his hand. "If you want me gone, I'll leave you alone."

With that, he disappeared. 

Jeremy sighed again, still feeling incredibly off with Michael there with him. He tried to tell himself that everything was fine ("Michael literally  _just_ told you everything was good!"), but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something bigger going on. 

With a groan, he sunk back down in his chair, resting his head in his arms. He spent the rest of the lunch period that way, arms crossed, head down. 

He tried not to think about Michael.

Jeremy nearly fell asleep, but sat up with a start when he heard the piercing sound of the bell. Grumbling, he grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He realized as he walked out of the cafeteria that he hadn't eaten anything, but he wasn't hungry anymore. 

He trudged down the hall towards his next class, head down. Usually he and Michael would walk together from lunch, since their classes were in the same hallway, and Jeremy felt an incredible sense of wrongness in walking by himself to seventh period history. 

Nevertheless, he made it to class with time to spare. Settling into his seat, he already knew that he wouldn't be able to focus on the topic of the day (the causes of the Revolutionary War). Instead, he resigned himself to zoning out at his desk, only tuning in occasionally to avoid another incident like the one in French class that morning. 

History went by without anything exciting, which Jeremy was grateful for. He walked out of the classroom as the bell rang and made his way down the hall. 

He pushed open the bathroom door and slipped inside, stopping to examine himself in the mirror. He looked like his usual self for the most part, which was to say he looked like an acne ridden seventeen year old boy with messy hair and a questionable fashion sense.

Most of all, though, he looked tired. 

Jeremy sighed, going to splash some water on his face. 

Just then, the bathroom door squeaked open, letting in an explosion of noise from the hallway. A voice yelled something about going to the bathroom and Jeremy's eyes widened. He knew that voice, and he was in no state to deal with it today. Jeremy nearly tripped in his haste to get to one of the two stalls in the boy's bathroom.

He shoved the door closed behind him just as Rich walked up to the bathroom sink.

Jeremy tried to breathe silently, standing completely still as Rich did whatever it was he was doing. Jeremy's arms were twisted uncomfortably against the wall, but he didn't want to risk moving in case Rich heard. 

Rich had transferred to Middleborough part way through their freshman year - at least, Jeremy was pretty sure he'd transferred. He didn't remember ever seeing him around before that, but he couldn't have told you where Rich had transferred from.

Regardless, Rich made Jeremy's life a living hell. His favorite hobby, it seemed, was mocking Jeremy. This included a surprisingly wide array of activities, from shoving Jeremy into walls to writing on his backpack in permanent marker to yelling insults at him in the halls. 

Jeremy checked his phone anxiously - 12:47. He still had to go to locker, grab his calculator, and then trek all the way across the school to get to his math class. He briefly considered just leaving the stall and going for it, but it was really never even an option. Rich was terrible to him on good days, and Jeremy shuddered to think what he would do if he knew Jeremy was hiding in the bathroom stall. 

Instead, Jeremy listened intently, hoping Rich would hurry up. After a few moments, Jeremy heard the sink turn on, and heard Rich was his hands. 

Jeremy checked his phone again: 12:48. 

"Shit," he mumbled under his breath. He just wanted to get to pre-calc and take his quiz! He was already anxious about it enough, not to mention whatever had happened during lunch. 

A few breaths later, Jeremy heard the door open. As soon as it closed again and Jeremy was sure Rich had gone, he burst out of the stall. He crossed the bathroom in three long strides and three open the door, walking as fast as he could towards his locker. 

He looked at his phone again. 

12:49.

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ " Jeremy exclaimed quietly, picking up the pace. He stopped in front of his locker and frantically worked at the lock, turning it left, right, and left again. 

He pulled, but it wouldn't open. 

_"Fuck!"_ Jeremy yelled, desperation tingeing his voice. He glanced around nervously, but there were no teachers around. 

After a deep breath, Jeremy was able to successfully open his locker on the second try. He shoved his history binder inside and snagged his calculator, slamming his locker door closed and shoving the lock on before sprinting down the hall. 

He slipped down the stairs, whipping around the turn and nearly falling down the second flight. Jeremy's feet scrambled for purchase and he nearly slipped as he rounded the corner into the hall where his math room was. He could see it at the end of the hall, the last door on his right. 

Jeremy picked up the pace, practically tripping over his feet as he sprinted down the hall. He slid to a stop in front of his math room, yanking the door open and stepping over the threshold just as the bell rang. 

"Ah, Jeremy, there you are. Your quiz is at your seat." His math teacher gave him a cold look, gesturing towards Jeremy's desk. 

All of his classmates stared at him as he made his way to his seat. His breathing was heavy from his mad dash across the school, and it was unbearably loud in the near silent room. 

Jeremy sunk down into his chair, wishing he could've sunk straight into the floor. He was sure his whole face was bright red, and his hands were shaky. 

Stupid Rich, almost making him late for class. 

Jeremy sat at his desk, struggling to regain his composure. He eventually managed to settle his breathing down, and he turned his attention to the quiz in front of him.

Jeremy wasn't  _bad_ at math, exactly, and he'd always gotten A's in his classes, but he floundered on tests and quizzes. He always ended up working until the bell, checking and rechecking his work, second guessing everything. 

He glanced at the clock on the wall - 12:56. He'd already lost more than five minutes of the period to Rich and the bathroom incident. 

Jeremy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn't have time to freak out. 

When he opened his eyes, he looked down at his quiz. The first problem loomed in front of him, a graph of an inverted absolute value function screaming at him on the page. 

Jeremy knew that he'd learned how to do what the problem was asking ("Please state the formula, domain, range, maximum, minimum, and any relative maximums or minimums"), but he just couldn't seem to remember what to do. He felt frustration bubbling inside of him, but he decided to move on to the next problem and go back to the graph later. 

The next problem was a set of two functions, their equations blurring before Jeremy's eyes. He was supposed to plug one function into the other and solve, but he couldn't seem to get the math right.  

He wanted to scream as he rubbed his eraser over the paper, getting rid of the failed work. He brushed the eraser shavings off of his paper and looked at the clock again, a spike of anxiety pulsing through him when he realized he'd been working for ten minutes with nothing to show for it. 

He tried the problem again, getting a different answer than he had the first time. Jeremy was encouraged at first, but the solution didn't check back in the original equation. 

Jeremy angrily erased his calculations again, pushing eraser shavings on the floor. What was _wrong_ with him today?

He tried moving on to the next problem, and the one after that, but they both went about as well as the first two. Nothing Jeremy tried seemed to work out, and he was running out of ideas.

Flicking his eyes upwards, Jeremy realized what else he was running out of: time.

As if on cue, his teacher called out, "Five minutes until I collect your papers. Make sure to check your work," he added,  to grading the quizzes from earlier in the day. 

Jeremy's anxiety was working in overdrive as he tried desperately to solve even one of the problems on his paper. Jeremy had no idea what to do, and the clock was ticking

He needed help. 

"Hey, I don't know how this works, but I hope you can hear me," Jeremy thought. "I need help. Please. You're a supercomputer, you can handle pre-calc, right? I just really, _really_ need some help on this quiz," he continued, desperation clear even in his thoughts. 

Nothing happened. Jeremy let out a soft groan and closed his eyes, accepting his fate. 

"You called?"

Jeremy eyes flew open and his head whipped up, staring at the figure in front of him. 

"Oh, thank god!" Jeremy exclaimed, never having been more glad to see his Squip.

His Squip raised an eyebrow and Jeremy clapped a hand over his mouth, flushing bright red as he realized he'd said that out loud. A few kids snickered, but Jeremy could almost ignore it as he explained what was going on to his Squip. 

His thoughts tumbled out in a tangled mess, words flowing into each other in his mind. 

"— and I think x should equal three but I don't know _how_ I'm supposed to get there, and I can't remember how you graph a cubic function and I don't know if I was supposed to use interval notation or not and —"

"Jeremy. Stop." 

His Squip held out a hand to silence him as Jeremy stuttered through more frantic thoughts, eventually ceasing under the Squip's intense look. Keanu's eyes went blank for a moment, then snapped back into focus. 

"If the bell schedule I just accessed was accurate, we have approximately four minutes until the end of this class. Is that correct?" 

Jeremy nodded, his blank quiz glaring at him  from where it sat on the desk. 

"You're not going to like this," his Squip said, causing Jeremy to tense up, "but the only way we can finish in time is if you let me take over."

The meaning of those words didn't sink in at first, but then suddenly Jeremy understood. He shuddered at the memory of walking across the food court like he was a puppet, being controlled by some invisible hand. 

"Of course," his Squip continued, "I could recite the answers to you as you copy them down, but we will only be able to finish approximately 45 percent of the test if you choose that route."

Jeremy frowned, considering the options. What was worse, being a puppet for a few minutes or failing a second math quiz for the quarter? 

"O-okay," Jeremy replied unsteadily. "Do it."

It was like a switch had been flipped. Jeremy was suddenly shoved into the passenger's seat of his own mind, his Squip taking the reigns. 

Jeremy felt his fingers flex, his Squip settling into the physical aspects of taking control. Jeremy saw himself crack his knuckles, then pick up his pencil. Jeremy heard his Squip speak before he began to write. 

_Here we go._

Numbers and letters bloomed across the paper. Jeremy had never written so fast in his life, let alone solved math problems at this pace. Before he knew it, the front of the page was finished, and he felt himself turning the paper over. 

Jeremy belatedly wondered if they were going to finish the entire quiz as he scrawled lines of computations on the paper like a robot. 

_Yes, we will. That's what I promised, Jeremy._

Jeremy went to roll his eyes, then remembered he couldn't. All he could do was watch his hand fly across the paper, leaving a string of formulas and solutions in its wake. 

It was pretty freaky, to be honest.

His Squip finished the last problem, circling his answer with a flourish just before the bell rang. The Squip scanned the paper for errors quickly, and, finding none, relinquished his hold on Jeremy's body. 

Jeremy promptly collapsed in his chair, arms smacking the desk as he toppled under his own weight. It took a few moments until his brain reconnected to his body, and he breathed a sigh of relief at being back in control. 

He felt weird as he stood up and handed in his quiz - his skin felt too tight, his movements too jerky.

"That will fade," his Squip offered, walking alongside him in the hall. 

"Mhm," Jeremy hummed. He looked at his Squip, struggling to fathom that Keanu Reeves had basically just piloted his body so that he could pass his pre-calc quiz. 

"You're welcome, by the way," his Squip said offhandedly. 

"Oh, right! Yeah, thanks," Jeremy muttered. "I really do appreciate it," he continued nervously, "b-but let's not ever do that again. _God_ , that was horrible."

"Point taken," his Squip said coolly. "Well, now that we have successfully averted that crisis...I'll be here if you need me," he added, then disappeared. 

Jeremy walked in silence to his last period of the day, thankful that he had a study hall and not gym today. 

Study hall flew by. Jeremy hadn't done anything except sit and stare out the window, alternating between leaning his head against his fist and bending forward to rest his head on his folded arms. Either way, it was a pretty relaxing way to end the day.

Except, Jeremy realized with a groan, this wasn't the end of his day. He had to attend a meeting for drama club after school. It wasn't going to be long, but he still didn't wanna go. 

Jeremy's stomach twisted into a knot as he realized that Michael  _and_ Christine would both be there. 

Christine, of course, was the school's biggest theatre star, so obviously she would be there. She'd starred in every Middleborough production since they did _The Jungle Book_ in second grade.

Michael, though, wasn't going to be there because he wanted to be on stage. He'd finally joined stage crew last year after years of Jeremy pestering him to, and the meeting was mandatory for anyone involved in the show. 

The bell rang and Jeremy got up, stomach churning at the thought of seeing either Michael or Christine. 

It didn't take long for him to grab his stuff from his locker, and soon Jeremy was walking into the auditorium. It looked like he was the first one there; he snagged a seat off to the right and settled in to work in some homework for a few minutes before the meeting started.

His Squip appeared next to him then. "So," he said casually. "Michael will be here soon."

Jeremy glanced up from his physics homework, nodding. "Yeah," he said, not really paying attention to what the Squip was saying.

"I think that it's in your best interest to act as if everything is fine. I can guarantee that Michael is not mad at you, and while he did leave you during lunch, I'm 97.4 percent sure he was not upset with you."

Jeremy nodded absentmindedly. "Mhm."

His Squip plowed on, undeterred by the lack of Jeremy's attention. "I'll be here to guide you the whole time, of course, but I think that the anxiety you've been feeling over Michael is unnecessary. Your mind has fabricated an excessively large rift, but if you simply act as usual, everything will be fine."

Jeremy nodded again.

"What're you nodding for?" Michael asked, tumbling into the seat next to Jeremy with a toothy grin. 

Jeremy, who hadn't even heard him approach, grinned back. "Just thinking over this homework," he said, suddenly absorbing the Squip's advice to act normal. 

"Nice," Michael said, settling into his chair. 

There were a few beats of silence, then Michael said, " Listen, about lunch—"

"It's fine," Jeremy interrupted. "I shouldn't have pushed you so far when I could tell you were already overwhelmed."

Michael paused, at a loss for words. 

"Oh. Yeah. Yeah! That's all it was," he said, laughing. He didn't meet Jeremy's eyes as he said, "I was just feeling overwhelmed and uh, when you, uh, grabbed my hand, it just really pushed me over the edge."

His face was flushed slightly, and Jeremy eyed him with concern. "There's no need to be embarrassed about getting overwhelmed, Michael."

Michael let out a choked laugh. "Right," he said, voice cracking. "Anyways, what'd you think of the pre-calc quiz?" 

Before Jeremy could answer, Mr. Reyes, the drama teacher at Middleborough High School, appeared. "Hello, everyone!" he yelled in a singsong voice. "Stop the chatter, please! Now, I'd like to start this meeting of by saying..."

He continued to talk, welcoming new and old members to another year of Drama Club. 

Jeremy tuned him out, having heard the same spiel every year since fifth grade. He was just enjoying the knowledge that he and Michael were fine, that the rift between them really had been fabricated by Jeremy's anxious brain. It felt good to have Michael beside him again.

Mr. Reyes spoke animatedly, covering all of the housekeeping things that needed to be done. He finished up after about 15 minutes, telling all the kids how " _absolutely overjoyed!_ _"_ he was to be working with them again this year. He also mentioned that he was looking for students to serve as officers to help organize the running of the show, at which point Michael elbowed Jeremy in the side.

"You gonna go for it?" he asked, eyes alight. 

Jeremy shrugged. He didn't know if he would be able to do a good job, or if Mr. Reyes would even want him to be an officer. 

As if reading his mind, Michael gently punched Jeremy in the arm. "You'd be great for the job, Jer! No one loves Drama Club as much as you," he said. 

"Well, except maybe for Christine," he said with a chuckle. 

Jeremy laughed slightly, then stopped. "Do you really think I should do it? It would be pretty cool to be an officer," he admitted. 

"Hell yeah, dude! Go get those forms!" Michael gave Jeremy a bright smile as he gently pushed him towards the front of the rom where Mr. Reyes was standing with the officer information. 

Stepping carefully over Michael's bag, Jeremy walked down the aisle towards Mr. Reyes. Just as he got there, so do Christine. 

Mr. Reyes clapped excitedly. "I was hoping the two of you would volunteer! Oh, it's going to be a simply _fantastic_ year," he said, smiling. He shuffled through the mess of papers in front of him, then frowned. 

"I think I left the forms in my office - I'll be right back!" Mr. Reyes yelled over his shoulder. 

Jeremy glanced at Christine out of the corner of his eye. It was just the two of them standing alone in the auditorium - even Michael had left, probably to wait in his car. 

"So, uh, hey," Jeremy said, his voice cracking. 

Christine didn't respond, so he tried again. "Hey, Christine?"

Christine looked up at him, smiling. "Yeah?"

Jeremy froze then, realizing he didn't actually have a question to ask. He racked his brain, then just blurted out the first thing that came to mind. 

"What's your favorite color?"

Christine give him a funny look, and Jeremy wanted nothing more than for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. 

"Uh, I dunno," she said. "I really like all the colors. It depends on my mood, y'know?"

"Oh man, that's my favorite too! How crazy," Jeremy laughed. Then he realized that what he said made absolutely no sense in response to what Christine had said, and he blanched.

"I mean - uh, yeah, all the colors are, uh, pretty cool," he stuttered, trying and failing to cover up what had just happened. 

Christine just gave him an awkward smile and pulled out her phone. The two of them stood in uncomfortable silence until Mr. Reyes came back, paperwork in hand. 

"Here we go!" he exclaimed, handing them each a contract. "Just fill this out," he said, pointing to the lines that needed to be filled in.

Christine pulled a pen out of her bag and immediately started filling out her information. Jeremy realized suddenly that he'd left his bag by his chair, and that he had nothing to write with. He stood awkwardly doing nothing for a second before clearing his throat awkwardly. 

Christine looked up from her paperwork to glance at him. He gave a awkward smile. 

"Do you think I c-could borrow a pen?" he asked, knowing that he was blowing it. 

Christine let out a tiny sigh. "Sure," she said, reaching around and grabbing a pen from her bag. She handed it to Jeremy without a comment, going back to her own paperwork.

Jeremy took the pen silently and began to fill out the forms as fast as he could. The plastic pen was slippery in his sweaty palms, and he made a few spelling errors in his hurry to finish. 

He rushed through his signature at the bottom, checking he'd filled in everything. 

"Uh," he mumbled, trying to catch Christine's eye. She looked up at him expectantly.

"Here's your pen," he said, going to hand her it back to her. "You're welcome - oh, god, I m-meant thank you, thanks for, uh, you know, the pen," Jeremy rambled, face flushed with embarrassment. 

Christine smiled at him, but Jeremy could see the slight trace of pity in it. "You can keep it," she said, glancing at his sweating palms. 

Jeremy didn't even say anything as he turned on his heel and sped out of the auditorium, snatching his backpack on the way out. 

Michael laughed when Jeremy got in the car a few moments later. 

"You look like a tomato, dude!" 

"Thank you  _so_ much for telling me, Michael! I really had no idea," Jeremy said with a huff. Then he groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

 "I totally just blew it, Michael," Jeremy said from behind his hands. "I couldn't say anything right!"

"I'm sure it wasn't as bad as all that, Jer," Michael replied soothingly. He was driving, so he couldn't put a comforting hand on Jeremy's shoulder like he usually would. Jeremy thought that his voice was soothing nonetheless.

Jeremy just groaned in response. 

"Wanna come over to play some video games?" Michael asked, attempting to cheer up his friend. "I'd let you play as whoever you wanted in Mario Kart," he added trying to sweeten the deal.

Despite the added benefits, Jeremy shook his head no. 

_You should go._

Jeremy sat up straight suddenly, glaring at something Michael couldn't see. 

"You!" Jeremy exclaimed in his mind. "Where the hell have you been?"

Before his Squip could answer, Jeremy cut him off. "No - you know what? We'll talk about this at home. I don't wanna weird Michael out."

_As you wish._

"You sure you're okay, Jer? I'm sure whatever happened with Christine wasn't really as big of a deal as your brain is making it out to be," Michael said softly. 

"Yeah, I know. I'm fine," Jeremy added. "I just wanna go home."

Michael nodded, then turned up the music. They drove towards Jeremy's house in silence, listening to the beat coming through the speaker. 

Jeremy hopped out of the car as soon as Michael pulled into the driveway, anger at his Squip bubbling in his stomach. 

"Thanks for the ride, Michael!"

"You know it's no trouble," Michael replied. He waved as he pulled out of the driveway and headed towards his own home. 

After the PT Cruiser turned the corner, Jeremy unlocked the door and went inside.

He set his bag on the ground and bent down to pull of his shoes. When he stood up, his Squip was standing in front of him. 

"You wanted to talk?" he asked, arms crossed. 

"Yeah, I wanted to talk! What the  _hell_ was that?" Jeremy asked, practically yelling.

His Squip looked slightly taken aback. He leaned against the wall, surveying Jeremy's shaking hands and angry stance. "I'm not sure I understand what the problem is, Jeremy."

Jeremy took a deep breath. "The _problem,_ " he said slowly, "is that you just let me make a fool of myself in front of _Christine_." He annunciation each word carefully, fists balled at his sides. 

His Squip raised one brow. "And?" he drawled. 

Jeremy exploded. 

"Are you _kidding_ me? 'And?' You let me make a complete fool of myself, and all you have to say for yourself is ' _And?_ '" Jeremy was screaming now, face red with emotion. "I totally blew it, and you didn't do a thing to help!"

He took a step closer to the Squip, anger slight in his eyes.

"You're around non-stop when Michael is around - hell, you made me freak him out in lunch today because you wouldn't just let me take care of my friend! - but you can't even give me half a second of advice when I really need it!" Jeremy threw his arms out in exasperated anger. "Christine was whole reason I spent four hundred dollars on you, and you didn't even help!" 

The Squip blinked at that, pushing away from the wall. 

"Jeremy, I only intervene when I see that I need to in order to achieve your goal," his Squip said, speaking to Jeremy as if he were a child. 

Jeremy let's out a frustrated shriek. "Christine  _is_  the goal!"

His Squip cocked his head to the side. "You told me that you wanted aid in dealing with a crush —"

Jeremy interrupted him, words tumbling out of his mouth unrestrained. "Yes! _Yes, I did!_ And then we finally interact with her, and you can't even be bother to show up," he yelled, breathing heavily. 

"— _not_ ," his Squip continued, pretending Jeremy hadn't interrupted, "befriending your theatrical inspiration."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jeremy shouted, throwing his arms up in the air. "I've had a crush on Christine for years!"

A beat of silence. 

His Squip blinked, scrutinizing him. "Jeremy, you don't have a crush on Christine."

 "I - you - what are you - what?" Jeremy spluttered, caught so completely off guard that he had no idea what to say. His voice had dropped backed to normal volume, all of his anger washed away in the midst of his confusion. 

"I have seen all of your memories, have experienced all of your emotions, and have catalogued all of your thoughts. I have lived inside your brain for three days. You don't have a crush on Christine."

Jeremy was at a loss for words. All he could do was stare at his Squip in confusion, desperately trying to understand what he was saying. 

"What I'm _saying_ , Jeremy, is that I can see your thoughts, feelings, emotions - everything. And it's clear to me that the person you're romantically interested in, whether you acknowledge it or not..." his Squip paused for a moment, looking at Jeremy.

"...is Michael."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO YEAH UHHHH MAJOR PLOT POINT UNLOCKED??? 
> 
> this chapter literally killed me.....,,,its so _long _.,..,...but yeah! i hope you guys liked it!!! if u wanna validate my suffering i live for comments :')))))))__  
>  _oh yeah but thanks for reading!!! catch me over at choking-onholywater on tumblr if u wanna scream about boyf riends or just say hi !_
> 
>  
> 
> _(oh and uhhh got any cute friend tropes you like??? cute crush tropes??? drop em in the comments. dont ask why. just go)_


	5. open up your eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its 4am so this will get revised tomorrow, sorry for using breaks i wasnt sure how else to show the memories start/end !! also sorry for all the dialogues and one line paragraphs its just how it came out uuhhhhhh enjoy anyways

" _What I'm saying, Jeremy, is that I can see your thoughts, feelings, emotions - everything. And it's clear to me that the person you're romantically interested in, whether you acknowledge it or not...is Michael."_  

 

Jeremy stood silently, his face frozen in shock. His eyes glowed with a mix of anger and confusion, his lip curled slightly with a twinge of incredulous disgust. 

He stood there, unmoving, staring at his Squip in front of him. 

Without warning, Jeremy threw his head back and let out a rough, bitter laugh.

"Oh, what the  _fuck_ ," he said, shaking his head slightly. The bitterness in his laugh lingered in his tone, filing his voice with poison as he spoke. "You've gotta be kidding me! I paid four hundred dollars for this shit?"

He fixed his Squip with a deadly glare. "You're fucking malfunctioning if you think that what you just said makes  _any_  goddamn sense." 

His Squip flickered, seeming to pixelate and then refocus in rapid succession. "Jeremy, please, just allow me to spea—"

"No!" Jeremy yelled, interrupting. "You don't get so say anything. What the fuck is wrong with your coding that you could screw up this badly?" His body was shaking, an unidentifiable, black feeling sprouting in his gut. Why would his Squip think that he had a crush on  _Michael?_

Now it was his Squip's turn to laugh. The sound made Jeremy's blood run cold. 

"I can tell you why," his Squip said in response, traces venom laced through his tone. He was infuriatingly calm in the face of Jeremy's outburst. "Your heart rate heightens when you're with him - your pupils dilate up to 65 percent their usual size when you lock eyes - you begin to sweat around him, even more than usual."

Jeremy sputtered, attempting to find something to say in response. His Squip ignored him, plowing onwards. "All of those are scientifically proven to be indicative of romantic attraction. You call my coding faulty _,_ butthese are _facts,_ Jeremy."

Jeremy's face was bright red. He didn't know what to say - whatever he'd imagined happening when he'd asked to talk with his Squip, it certainly hadn't been  _this_. 

"I - uh....you..." Jeremy mumbled, searching for the something to say. He came up blank. There weren't any words to explain what he was feeling, to explain what the dark, writhing mass in his stomach was. 

"Jeremy," his Squip said gently, drawing him out of his thoughts. "I understand why this would be confusing. I apologize for bringing it up so suddenly - I never imagined that you would have completely repressed these feelings. I'm sure you see, now, that what I'm saying is true. There's nothing wrong with the way you are," he added, almost as an afterthought. 

The black feeling in his gut was growing as he listened to his Squip, an emotion Jeremy couldn't name. It felt like a living thing, a rotten and festering beast deep inside his gut. It was oily, like a slick of vile blackness inside of him, unable to be tamed or controlled. 

His Squip was still speaking, each word making the thing in Jeremy's gut curl tighter and tighter as if readying to strike. 

"There certainly isn't any reason to be ashamed of. Your feelings for Michael are completely normal," he said. 

And then, suddenly, the rotten thing spewed out of Jeremy's mouth, bitter and rancid on his tongue. 

"Jesus fucking christ, I am not  _gay_!"

Disgust clung to the last word, dripping thickly from his mouth. The black emotion from his gut was all over his face, his upper lip curled in repulsion, eyes glowing with hate. He was breathing heavily, his entire body quaking with a combination of disgust, rage, and mortification. 

Then, the pride patch on Michael's hoodie flashed through Jeremy's mind and he felt the rancid thing inside him shrivel up and die. He could picture Michael's face if he would've heard what Jeremy had just said, if he'd have witnessed the amount of disgust in his best friend's face when he said the word "gay". 

Jeremy gasped at the mental image, bile rising in his throat.

"I - I didn't mean to s-say it like that," he mumbled, nausea rolling through him. "I never meant - I don't think —"

His body was suddenly wracked with spams and he kneeled down on the ground, dry heaving. His eyes stung, tears blooming from the physical pain and the thought of how he'd just acted. 

Jeremy stayed there for a few minutes, body shaking. When he eventually calmed down enough to take a deep breathe without immediately dissolving into choking coughs, he sat back onto his heels. He closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. 

Everything was wrong and nothing made sense, but he couldn't hide behind a wall of anger forever. 

When Jeremy opened his eyes, he noticed that his Squip was watching him. They stared at each other in silence for a few moments before his Squip spoke. 

"Are you finished?" 

Jeremy nodded, not trusting himself to speak. All of his anger, his rage, his hate, had slipped away, leaving him feeling exhausted and confused. All he wanted was to understand what was going on.

"If that's truly your wish, I believe I can assist," his Squip said, settling to sit on the edge of the table. 

"Y-yeah," Jeremy said, his voice hoarse from yelling and coughing. "Just - explain."

"Please," he added, voice breaking.

His Squip nodded. "Very well. In order to help you to understand what's going on, I will be accessing some of your memories." He hopped off the table and padded towards Jeremy. "Think of it like a movie, except I'll be choosing the films, and the films are your life," he said, as if that made it any easier to grasp.

"Uh, okay," Jeremy replied, frowning. 

His Squip was directly in front of him now, close enough to touch. 

"Give me one moment while I scan your memories for suitable options," he said. Jeremy nodded his consent, but it didn't actually matter: his Squip was already staring blankly ahead, images from Jeremy's memories flashing in his eyes. 

Jeremy sat in awkward silence as this happened. He was still confused by what was going on, but thankfully, the initial shock had worn off. He didn't feel angry anymore - now, it was a mix of confusion, exhaustion, and something else he couldn't quite place. The rotten, blackened thing in his gut had vanished, and for that Jeremy was grateful. 

He had no idea what had come over him in his anger - the way he'd acted made him grimace now. He could still hear the disgust in his own voice, and it made Jeremy feel queasy as he replayed the outburst in his mind.

The way that the contempt had dripped from his words made Jeremy shudder, and he nearly started dry heaving again from the waves of nausea that accompanied the memories. 

He didn't know where the disgust, the rage, the  _hate_ had come from. It wasn't like Jeremy at all - usually, the only thing he hated that much was himself. 

"Memory selected," his Squip said suddenly, causing Jeremy to jump. His Squip turned his attention to Jeremy. 

"Are you ready?"

Jeremy swallowed, nervous. "I - yeah, uh, I guess so? But ready for - for what?" be added, not entirely certain he knew what he was getting into. 

"Ready to see things more clearly," his Squip replied. Then he reached out a hand and touched a finger lightly to Jeremy's forehead, and the world went dark. 

 ______________

_Five years earlier_

"Dude, I can't believe we're going!" 

Michael grinned at Jeremy, braces glinting. "I know," he exclaimed. "This is gonna be so cool!" 

The two boys were sitting on Jeremy's bed, gushing excitedly about their recent purchase. Jeremy and Michel had been saving up for months, doing everything that a sixth grade kid could do to raise money, from lemonade stands to raking leaves to exchanging cans for change at the supermarket. 

 All in all, of course, the boys hadn't had quite enough for what they wanted, but their parents were so endeared by their efforts that they agreed to pay the rest themselves. 

"We're going to see Weird Al," Jeremy said slowly, savoring every word. "That's. So. Awesome!"

He flopped backwards onto the bed with a whoop, punching his fists in the air. Michael laughed, flopping down next to Jeremy on the bed. 

The two boys laid in contented silence, staring up at the plastic stars scattered across Jermey's ceiling - he and Michael had won a pack at the arcade, splitting them half and half so that both of their rooms could look cool. 

After a few minutes, Jeremy broke the silence. 

"Hey, Michael?" he asked softly. 

"Yeah?" Michael answered, still staring up at the makeshift constellations. 

"You'd tell me if you thought this was lame, right?" Jeremy's voice was still soft, but there was a tinge of emotion in it. There was a bit of a quavering voice

Michael propped himself up on one elbow looking at Jeremy incredulously. "Dude, this is like, the coolest thing I've done in -" he scrunched up his face, thinking. "Well, in like, ever!" he laughed. 

Jeremy smiled, but it wasn't his usual bright grin. 

"C'mon, dude, I promise, I'm super excited to go," Michael added, trying to cheer Jeremy up from whatever was bothering him. "Besides," he continued with a grin, "you're my best friend! I'm pretty sure we could go anywhere and have fun just being together."

"You really mean it?" Jeremy asked, eyes wide, staring at Michael. 

"Uh, yeah? Of course! You're the greatest," Michael said confidently, laying back down on the bed. "Which is why you're my best friend. Because I'm also the greatest," he clarified, closing his eyes with a grin. 

Jeremy snorted a laugh, making Michael begin laughing too. 

Soon, the two boys were a giggling mess, gasping for breath between fits of unrestrained laughter. 

Michael was curled up sideways as he laughed, his glasses askew on his face. His smile was incredibly bright, and Jeremy couldn't help but stare. 

A warm feeling settled in his chest as he watched his best friend laugh. Whenever they hung out, Jeremy felt more and more sure that he and Michael really were perfect together, the way best friends should be. 

The warm feeling grew even stronger when Michael laughed so hard he fell off the bed, and the feeling of affection exploded through Jeremy's veins when Michael popped up off the floor, laughing ever harder. 

Jeremy let out a content sigh, his heart glowing. There was a goofy smile on his face, just happy to be existing with his best friend by his side. 

Yeah, he had pretty much the best friend in the entire world. 

 ______________ 

Jeremy blinked, disoriented. There was a ghost of a smile on his face from the fond memory, but his head was spinning. He was still on the floor, his feet folded under him.

Above him, his Squip was staring at him expectantly. 

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Underwhelmed," Jeremy replied bitterly. "What exactly was that supposed to show me?"

His Squip said nothing, his eyes already glazed over, snippets of Jeremy's past flicking across them. 

Jeremy sighed, then rubbed his eyes. He shifted, trying to get more comfortable on the floor (his ankles were starting to hurt from sitting on top of them). He scanned the room, looking for what, he wasn't sure. 

Well. He was pretty sure he was looking for a distraction, but that didn't seem to be working out. 

He let out a frustrated groan, running a hand through his hair. Why had the Squip shown him that memory in particular? It didn't make any sense to Jeremy. It wasn't like he and Michel had been doing anything that could even be misconstrued as romantic - plus, they'd both been eleven years old. 

Sure, the memory always made Jeremy smile, even if he cringed at their concert choice now. And yeah, Jeremy remembered the relieved, glowing feeling that had sprouted in his gut after Michael had soothed Jeremy's sixth grade anxiety over their friendship. And yes, the two of them had laughed together on that bed for hours that night, not worried about anyone or anything else in the world. 

But that was because they were best friends, and that's what best friends were like.

Jeremy glanced at his Squip, who was still standing completely still. 

He didn't understand the point of all this. Even though his anger had mostly faded, he was still annoyed and a little bit uncomfortable. It all felt like a big waste of time. Jeremy had lived the memories his Squip was sifting through - how would reliving them make him come to some kind of identity epiphany? 

Even the thought made Jeremy give a derisive snort. He had a crush on Christine, had been crushing on her for years! He obviously couldn't be gay. And besides, he would know if he was. 

"Alright," his Squip said, breaking through Jeremy's thoughts. "I believe this memory will provide a clearer view for you."

This time, there was no small talk, no delay. His Squip simply leaned over and touched his fingertips to Jeremy's forehead — and then he was gone. 

 ______________

_A few months earlier_  

"Ugh, its cold as hell down here," Jeremy said, a shiver running down his spine. He pushed the pause button on his controller, tossing it to the side.

"Don't you mean..." Michael paused, a shit eating grin on his face. "Down  _Heere_?" 

Jeremy groaned as Michael dissolved into a fit of laughter, clutching his gut. Jeremy rolled his eyes - secretly, he loved Michael's puns, but he would never admit it. 

Instead, he grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl next to him and chucked it at Michael. The popcorn didn't even come close to touching him, which just made him laugh harder. 

He always laughed more when he was high. 

Honestly, it was part of what Jeremy liked most about smoking with Michael. Seeing his best friend happy made Jeremy's insides feel pleasantly warm, and Michael's laugh was like music to his ears. 

Michael's laughter slowed and the stopped entirely, but the grin stayed on his face. "Really, though, you want an extra blanket?" he asked, concerned. 

Jeremy pondered it for a moment. "Do you  _have_  an extra blanket?"

Michael screwed up his face in thought. "Nope, don't think so," he said finally, laughter bubbling up in his throat.  

Jeremy just rolled his eyes. It was fine - he wasn't really  _that_  cold. 

"Wanna get back to the game?" Jeremy asked, brandishing his controller at Michael. "Those zombies aren't gonna smash their own brains out," he added with a grin. 

Michael let out a little giggle. "Yeah, sure," he  answered, snatching up his controller. 

_Oh my god, that was adorable._

Michael glanced at him ruefully. "Adorable? Eh, I prefer roguishly handsome, but I guess I'll take it." He flashed Jeremy a grin. 

Jeremy slapped a hand over his mouth, face going pink. "I totally didn't mean to say that out loud," he muttered, but the anxiety was short-lived. Why shouldn't he say it out loud? He and Michael were best friends - they were closer than anybody else. Why couldn't Jeremy call Michael's laugh adorable every once in a while?

That was the other thing Jeremy liked about smoking with Michael: it made his brain mellow out so he could really just enjoy himself without his usual, constant anxiety. 

Shrugging off the slip-up, Jeremy unpaused the game and settled into a rhythm of hazy zombie pummeling with Michael. They'd almost finished the level when Jeremy saw Michael yawn out of the corner of his eye. 

"You tired?" he asked, glancing at him quickly. 

"Nah," Michael replied, decapitating a zombie on screen. 

A moment later, his mouth stretched open in the widest yawn Jeremy had even seen. 

"Okay, maybe I'm a little tired," he ceded. He gave another yawn, eyes fluttering. The light of the television made cast long shadows on his face from his eyelashes. Jeremy had never noticed how long Michael's eyelashes were before. 

"Aw, dude," Michael whined, breaking Jeremy's reverie. "You just died!"

Jeremy glanced at the screen. Sure enough, the words "LEVEL FAILED" flashed in bright, glowing red. "I got distracted," Jer answered simply. "Wanna call it a night?" he added. 

Michael nodded. 

"Alright, cool," Jeremy replied. He clicked the television off, standing up from his bean bag chair. He stretched his arms over head, swaying slightly.  He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the stretch.

When he opened them again, Michael was standing next to him, no longer curled up on his beanbag chair. He stretched his arms up over is head, a thin strip of skin visible as his hoodie shifted upwards. Jeremy felt his face heat up, looking away. 

His gaze shifted to the pillow on the ground next to Michael's bed. There was also a light blanket, and Jeremy shivered at the thought of spending the night half frozen on the floor. 

"It's still fucking cold down here," Jeremy said, turning back to his friend.

Michael had collapsed onto his bed, crawling in between the covers. He was nearly asleep, but his eyes opened slightly at the sound of Jeremy's voice.

"C'mere," he said drowsily, flipping back the sheets and blanket on top of him to reveal the mattress underneath. He patted it gently, struggling to stay awake.

Jeremy stopped, one eyebrow raised. "Michael?"

"So you won't be cold," Michael said. "It's no big deal," he said, voice thick with exhaustion. 

Jeremy made the split second decision to accept Michael's offer - like he'd said, his brain was pretty mellow when he was high. 

He turned off the light and crawled onto Michael's bed, eyes adjusting slowly to the blue glow of the lava lamp in the other corner of the room. He pulled the blankets back up over himself and Michael, settling on the very edge of the mattress. 

"Night, Michael," Jeremy said quietly, already half asleep, coaxed along by the comfortable warmth of the blankets around him. 

Michael said nothing, already having drifted off to sleep. The sound of his even inhales and exhales marked the silence as Jeremy, too, slowly fell asleep.

The next morning, Jeremy woke up feeling warm. 

It was the first thing he noticed when he slipped into consciousness, eyes still closed. He was so,  _so_  cozy, soft heat encompassing him on all sides. Someone was holding him, heat radiating off of them in waves. Jeremy settled in against them, ready to go back to sleep. He even pulled the blanket back up to his chin, relishing in how content he was in that moment. 

Just as he was about to drift into unconsciousness, he realized that  _someone was holding him._

Jeremy's eyes flew open, the soft haze of sleep gone. It took a few moments for him to remember where he was, but then it all came rushing back: smoking with Michael, playing Apocalypse of the Damned, crawling into his bed because the basement was cold. 

Jeremy felt heat creep up his neck. 

There was only one explanation, he knew, but he craned around to look over his shoulder anyways. 

Michael was sleeping right behind him, face peacefully blank. His arms were wrapped around Jeremy's torso, the top one slung loosely over Jeremy's chest. Their legs were a mess, tangled up under the blanket. 

Jeremy's initial response was to pull away, but when he tried to, Michael's arms tightened around him. Jeremy was reluctant to wake him up so that they could disentangle themselves, but he didn't see what other choice he had. 

"Michael," he whispered softly. "C'mon, get up."

Michael's brows furrowed and he let out a soft groan, pulling Jeremy closer. Then, he fell back asleep. 

Honestly, Jeremy couldn't blame him. The whole bed was still incredibly comfortable, and the warmth under the blankets was intoxicating. Jeremy weighed his options carefully, then decided that he wanted to go back to sleep. 

With a content sigh, he let himself burrow back into Michael's arms. He pulled the blankets towards them, making sure he was as comfy as possible before he drifted off to sleep. 

______________

This time, Jeremy awoke with a pink flush on his face. 

 "Well?" His Squip asked, staring down at Jeremy with his arms crossed. 

"Well what?" Jeremy asked. "You can't seriously say that meant anything - I was still half asleep! And, like, probably still a little stoned!" Even as he argued, the color in his cheeks darkened. 

So what if he and Michael had accidentally starting cuddling in their sleep? It didn't mean anything. 

It didn't mean anything that Jeremy hadn't tried to break free either, or that Jeremy had felt so cozy and warm. 

His Squip frowned. "I'm beginning to get annoyed, Jeremy. You're so far in denial, I don't know what I could possibly do to help you."

Jeremy glared up at him. "Maybe that's because I'm not gay! Newsflash: you can love somebody without being  _in_  love with them," he said. 

Jeremy knew that he loved Michael - he was without a doubt Jeremy's favorite person in the world. He always smiled more around him, and time flew by when they were together. Jeremy didn't know what he'd do without him. 

His Squip looked at him thoughtfully. "You know, you're right."

 "Huh?" Jeremy asked, startled. 

"You were right - you can love somebody without being  _in_  love with somebody," his Squip clarified. 

"Uh, okay? So, am I off the hook now?" Jeremy asked, laughing awkwardly. His Squip's eye's were glittering. "Oh, absolutely not. I've finally come up with the only way to prove to you that what I say is true. We'll need to access more memories - many more," his Squip said. 

Jeremy let out a groan just thinking about it - back and forth, stop and go, unconscious and waking up over and over and over. 

"Don't worry," his Squip said reassuringly. "We won't need to relive them to the same extent. I can simply play the memories at the forefront of your mind."

"Peachy," Jeremy mumbled, rolling his eyes. 

His Squip smiled at him. "Before we begin, you should know that I will be upping the intensity of your emotions so that they will be easier to identify and compare. I will not - and cannot, rest assured - fabricate your emotions in any way. Ready?"

Jeremy nodded.

Suddenly, it was like someone had started projecting a slideshow in Jeremy's head. It was Christine, every time she'd glanced his way or talked to him. 

Jeremy felt the familiar feeling of anxiety in his gut, admiration also vying loudly for attention. It was the same feelings he usually felt with her, but magnified, like someone was holding them under a microscope. His Squip hadn't been lying about the intense emotion thing. 

In any case, the images of Christine continued, accompanied by anxiety in his gut. Suddenly, the photo changed to his blank math test, then his first time driving, then a time he'd fallen in the hallways and everyone had laughed. 

"Think about your emotions, Jeremy!" his Squip urged. 

And Jeremy did. It didn't take him long to realize that the admiration he'd felt when he was seeing Christine died down quickly in the face of the other memories the Squip was selecting. His watchful eyes were enough to make Jeremy anxious, which led to Jeremy's second discovery: what he'd thought was just normal, butterflies in your stomach, being in love feeling? 

It was just normal anxiety.

For good measure, his Squip flipped back and forth between memories of Christine and memories that he knew would make Jeremy anxious. The more memories he saw, the more resigned he became to the idea that maybe, he hadn't been attracted to Christine in the first place. 

Maybe he'd just wanted to have a crush on her so badly that he'd fooled everyone - even himself. 

"Yes!" his Squip exclaimed. "This is progress!" 

The memories stopped, resting on the smile Christine had given him at the drama club meeting. Jeremy wondered belatedly if he could patch things up with Christine and still befriend her. The affection had been real, after all, even if Jeremy had completely misconstrued what kind of affection it was. 

Suddenly the image in his brain switched from Christine to Michael. Jeremy felt the shift in his core - the anxiety disappeared, replaced by something completely and totally  _other_. The memories began to cycle through, each one accompanied by a strong emotion that Jeremy couldn't quite put his finger on. 

Michael laughing at one of Jeremy's dumb jokes. Michael talking to Jeremy in the halls on the way to class. Michael picking Jeremy up for school in his P.T. Cruiser. 

It was Michael, Michael, Michael, the memories flipping faster and faster until each one was little more than a blur. Jeremy's chest felt like it was about burst as the pictures kept cycling through in his mind. His heart was beating fast, his palms slick with sweat. He was willing to bet that his pupils were dilated, too.

"Oh my god," Jeremy said softly, a thousand emotions swirling in his eyes.

"Yes?" his Squip prompted. 

 "I - oh my  _god_ ," Jeremy repeated. 

He was totally in love with his best friend, and he hadn't even known it. 

A billion thoughts crossed Jeremy's mind - he should go call Michael, he should walk out of the room, he should go to bed.

Instead, Jeremy just threw back his head and laughed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THERE IT IS! this chapter literally killed me to write??? lemme know what you guys though etc etc 
> 
> im so tired
> 
> okay thats it i need sleep


	6. am i sick or am i in love?

Jeremy woke up slowly, like he was being pulled through thick sludge into consciousness. He didn't even remember falling asleep - his phone was still next to him on the bed, and he was still wearing yesterday's clothes. Everything felt stale and gross. He hadn't showered last night, and his face felt oily. His throat hurt from yelling and he had a pounding headache.

In short, Jeremy Heere felt like shit. 

He pulled the blankets up around him, staring blankly at the clock on his dresser. He was usually already in the kitchen by now, grabbing something to eat before he got dressed for the day. He knew he should get up, but he just  _couldn't_. 

 He didn't know what was wrong with him. 

Jeremy sighed, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. He took a deep breath, then pulled his hands away. His alarm clocked ticked one minute forwards. Jeremy stared at it again, unable to convince himself to move.

He hadn't been able to sleep much the night before, having only fallen asleep about an hour ago. After his grand realization, his emotions had all come flooding forward. He'd spent the night careening from one extreme emotion to the next, fits of laughter broken up by sobbing, self loathing giving way to blank nothingness. It had been completely and totally exhausting _-_ especially for someone who didn't usually let themselves feel much of anything - but Jeremy just hadn't been able to sleep. 

Instead, he'd paced his room, thinking. He didn't need his Squip to replay memories for him; he'd started to do that on his own right away. He spent hours combing through all of his memories for signs of his emotions, digging through layers of repressed thoughts and denial. 

It was weird, seeing the past few years for what they were. As he looked back, it became harder and harder for Jeremy to understand how he hadn't realized his feelings sooner. Nearly all of his memories involved Michael in some way, and there was always more of him in the memory than strictly necessary for reliving what had happened. Jeremy hadn't come across a single happy memory from the last three years that wasn't focused on Michael. 

Aside from his overwhelming presence in Jeremy's memories, Jeremy also recognized the signs of his feelings in a million tiny, different things. He saw it in how he always smiled back when Michael smiled at him, no matter how he was feeling. He saw it in his music tastes, which mainly consisted of a few of his favorite bands and countless that Michael had recommended him. He saw it in the way that he would sometimes start thinking about Michael, unable to believe that someone so cool and funny and kind could possibly be his best friend. He saw it in the long, sappy, "I'm so grateful you're my friend and here's three hundred reasons that you're amazing" text messages that he typed out at two in the morning but never sent. 

His feelings were everywhere, the little signs dropped like breadcrumbs across his memories. Jeremy had just been too blind to follow the trail. 

"Jeremy!"  a muffled voice called from downstairs. "Are you awake?"

Jeremy groaned. He'd forgotten that his dad was going in late to work today. 

He said nothing, mentally preparing himself to eat out of bed. Before he could goad himself into getting up, there was a soft knock on the door. It opened a crack, revealing his father. 

"You doing alright, private?" he asked, voice laced with concern. He'd never had to worry about Jeremy being ready for school on time before. "You know Michael's going to be here in —" he checked his watch, then looked back up at his son. "Fifteen minutes."

The sound of Michael's name made Jeremy's stomach roll, so it wasn't exactly a lie when he told his dad that he was feeling too sick for school. 

His dad gave him a quick once over, then nodded. "You don't look too good. Stay home, get some rest," he said. He loitered in the door for a moment, unsure what to do next. 

"I have to go to work - I could stay home, if you needed me to..." he said finally, voice trailing off in an unfinished question. Jeremy almost smiled at his dad's concern, however misguided it was. Instead, he just shook his head. 

"Alright. Well, just call me if you need anything, okay?" 

Jeremy nodded and his dad turned to leave, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. 

Jeremy continued to lay in bed after his dad left the room, eyes settled unseeing on his clock. He didn't even have the energy to be anxious about what he'd be missing at school that day. All he could do was lay there, staring blankly ahead. 

Jeremy had watched his clock flip through thirteen minutes when he heard it: the telltale beep of Michael's P.T. Cruiser in the driveway. 

The sound made Jeremy's inside shrivel up, and his heart started to beat faster. There was another series of honks, each one chasing Jeremy to wince slightly. Then there was silence, and Jeremy assumed that Michael had realized he wasn't coming out. 

He was wrong.

A minute of blissful silence later, the chime of Jeremy's doorbell rang, echoing through the house. Jeremy nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound, eyes flying wide open. Then, he heard the sound of the door opening. He could head his dad's voice, muffled heavily by the distance. He could also hear Michael. 

The conversation mostly consisted of indecipherable mumbling from what Jeremy could hear from his room, but a few snippets came through clearly. 

Jeremy's dad told Michael that he was sick, and the concern in Michael's voice was palpable when he asked what was wrong. Jeremy's heart ached at how much his best friend cared. His dad said something else, probably that Jeremy just wasn't feeling well, and Jeremy could hear Michael's reply, catching a few words here and there.

"...feels better...texted me...see him later, maybe?" 

His dad said something in reply and Jeremy heard the door close a few minutes later. He breathed a sigh of relief as he heard the engine of Michael's car start, fading into the distance as he drove away. Not too long after, Jeremy heard his dad leave the house as well. 

He turned onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. The plastic stars above him made him think of Michael. It seemed like everything did now.

Just thinking about him sent a stab of guilt through Jeremy. He'd been trying not to think about it too much. The feeling had been mounting since last night, and hearing Michael's concern for Jeremy's wellbeing had pushed it over the edge. 

He felt like a fraud. He couldn't pinpoint exactly when he had started having a crush on Michael, but he knew that it had been years - maybe even since they were kids. Jeremy hated to think that he'd been lying for that long, to Michael and to himself. He felt like a million tiny bugs were crawling under his skin when he thought about how much of their friendship was based on lies on Jeremy's part. How would Michael feel if he knew that Jeremy had been hiding something like this from him for so long? 

The thought made Jeremy feel physically ill. Not only would Michael be angry that Jeremy had kept it a secret and lied for long, he would also react to what that secret actually  _was_. His best friend of twelve years having a massive crush on him - oh, yeah, Jeremy was sure it would go over great. 

While thinking about his unintentional deceit made Jeremy squirm, the thought of Michael actually finding out about his feelings was much,  _much_  worse. 

He knew Michael would reject him. Jeremy would consider himself lucky if Michael would even be willing to speak to him again after he learned about Jeremy's feelings. Michael would be angry, probably disgusted. Jeremy was just a loser, a pathetic little nobody with no redeeming qualities. Jeremy wouldn't want anything to do with someone like himself, especially if that person had a crush on him. 

Thinking about Michael rejecting him made Jeremy feel sick. They'd been best friends for  _twelve years_. Jeremy could barely even remember a life before Michael, but he was sure he would hate it. They'd been through everything together, from spelling tests and four square in elementary school to embarrassing phases and voice cracks in middle school to advanced classes and spirit assemblies in high school. Jeremy didn't know what he would do when his player one inevitably found out the truth and left him in the dust. 

Just then, Jeremy's phone vibrated. Picking it up, he say it was a text from Michael. 

_**player one: stopped over to pick u up this morning and ur dad told me u weren't feeling good. u better actually be sick and not be skipping without me!!**_  

The typing icon popped up next to Michael's name while Jeremy was reading the message, a burst of text messages coming through shortly after. 

_**player one: wait no i don't hope ur sick** _

_**player one: well i mean u probably r why else wouldn't u be here** _

_**player one: anyways i hope u feel better** _

_**player one: yeah okay that's it** _

A ghost of a smile crossed Jeremy's face, but he felt too guilty to reply to Michael's texts. Instead, he tossed his phone down on the bed next to him and pulled the blankets around himself tightly, figuring that he might as well catch up on his sleep if he was gonna be home all day. 

___________

Jeremy woke up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. It was dark in his room. He realized with a glance at his clock that he had slept all day, but he didn't dwell on the thought. 

Instead, he tried to remember what he'd been dreaming about. Even as he tried to conjure it up in his mind, he could feel it slipping through his fingers. He gave a frustrated 

Suddenly, it came back to him. He'd been talking to Michael, playing video games, when the Squip took over his body without warning. Jeremy had listened as he confessed his feelings, unable to stop his mouth from moving. He'd felt himself - felt the Squip - leaning in to kiss Michael. The dream had shifted then, Michael's basement melting away to become the cafeteria. Michael had shoved Jeremy away, disgusted. He'd yelled at Jeremy, and everyone in the cafeteria had laughed at Jeremy, who'd sat on the floor dumbly. 

Jeremy couldn't remember exactly what Michael had said to him in the dream, only that it had made his stomach drop into the floor. Even thinking about it now made him feel queasy. 

Jeremy rolled out of bed, cracking his back. He felt even more disgusting than he had when he'd awoken that morning, and he decided that he needed a shower. He padded out into the hall with a change of clothes under one arm. 

He pushed the bathroom door open and turned on the shower, letting the water heat up. He pulled off his slept-in clothes and stepped into the shower. 

His mind wandered back to his dream as he stood under the stream, letting the hot water fall on his back. 

Would that really happen if he told Michael how he felt? Probably not the basement-becomes-the-school-cafeteria thing, but the rest was possible. Probable, if the nasty, anxious whispers in Jeremy's mind were to be believed.  

He rubbed his eyes with a groan, desperate to wipe the memory of the dream from his mind. It made his breathe hitch just thinking about it, sending his heart pounding. When he pulled his hands away, he stared at the tile wall in front of him. He started counting them in an effort to distract himself, a nervous habit he'd picked up in middle school.  

Jeremy got to fifty-three before he felt calm enough to pull his eyes away. He sighed, the memory of Michael mocking him in front of the school clinging to his body like a second skin. 

Jeremy shuddered at the memory, then squeezed some shampoo into his palm. He scrubbed at his hair, trying to wash himself clean of the memory. The suds bubbled up under his fingers as the scent of strawberries filled the shower. He scrubbed until his scalp tingled, then stepped back into the water. 

He tipped his head back and let the water run through his soapy hair, the bubbles running down his back. Once he was sure all the soap was gone, he grabbed the soap from where it sat on ledge on the wall. 

He rubbed viciously at his skin, relishing in the idea that he could scrub the memory of the dream right off of his skin. He scoured his skin until his body was right red, but it helped. By the time he was done, he felt like he'd cleansed himself of the dream completely. 

Jeremy turned off the now lukewarm water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing his towel. He dried off quickly, then put on his new clothes. He felt worlds better now that he'd washed off the grime of nearly two days. 

His stomach grumbled as he stepped out into the hall, so he dumped his dirty clothes on the floor of his room and walked downstairs to get something to eat. He poured himself a bowl of cereal, eating in silence at the table. There was a note from his dad, saying that he would be out late for a meeting. Jeremy nodded, not bothered - his dad was out at all hours for his job, and Jeremy had long since gotten used to it.

When he was done, he put his bowl in the sink and walked back up to his room. He wasn't exactly tired yet, but he didn't actually have any energy to do anything. After pondering it for a few minutes, Jeremy decided to watch something on his phone until he was tired enough to go to sleep again. 

Snagging his phone from where it sat on his bed, Jeremy was immediately hit with a dozen notifications when he powered it on. A quick glance told him that they were all from Michael, but Jeremy didn't even have the strength to read them. He unlocked his phone, ignoring the red notification on the corner of the messages app. Instead, he tapped on YouTube, waiting for it to load with glazed eyes. 

He watched a short indie film about bullying wild mild interest, and was then led to a short student animation film about a boy who found a doll that looked like him in the window of a shop. Before long, Jeremy was riding the YouTube algorithm into the depths of the site, no longer particularly caring what was playing. He spent a few hours mindlessly consuming videos, eventually feeling tired enough to go to sleep again. 

Jeremy slept fitfully, tossing and turning all night. Thankfully, he had no more nightmares, but vague impressions of Michael and his Squip chased him through his mind all night. 

___________

He woke up the next morning, still unable to stomach the idea of going to school. His dad agreed to let him stay home again after only a bit of pleading. He told Jeremy that he needed to make sure he drinking enough water, at which Jeremy rolled his eyes, but nodded. His dad informed him that was going to be out late again, and he wanted Jeremy to be asleep by the time he was home. Jeremy gave a mock salute in response as his dad walked out the door. 

Jeremy checked his phone after his dad pulled out of the driveway. There was a new notification from Michael, and Jeremy opened it without thinking. He scrolled past the texts from the previous day, guilt eating away at his insides. He got to the newest message, down at the very bottom of the chat.

_**player one: u coming to school today? i can come pick u up** _

 Jeremy considered not replying, but he knew Michael well enough to know that he would show up if Jeremy didn't text back, just in case the answer was yes. 

_**player two: no** _

The terse, two letter reply was all Jeremy could muster. He turned off his phone, then went up to his room and settled back into bed.

The day went by much the same way the previous day one had. Jeremy spent the morning on YouTube, then had leftovers for lunch. He got another text from Michael around noon, asking if Jeremy wanted him to collect the work he'd missed and drop it off. Jeremy sent back a short reply saying that he had it taken care of, knowing that if he didn't Michael would take it upon himself to do it anyways. 

Afterwards, Jeremy settled onto the couch and turned on the TV. There was nothing good on, of course, but he watched mindlessly anyways. He fell asleep in front of the TV, whatever afternoon talkshow was playing droning on as he dozed. When he woke up, he ambled into the kitchen and opened the fridge, scrutinizing the contents. He eventually settled for popping a plate of leftover pasta in the microwave.

As he was eating, his phone chimed. Jeremy set down his fork and reached down to grab his phone, anxiety filling his gut.

_**player one: okay. school's been weird without u, hope u feel better soon.** _

Jeremy let the text go unanswered. He turned his attention back to his dinner, but his phone notified him of another text just as he picked up his fork.

_**player one: ur probably sleeping a lot which is why u aren't replying right** _

_**player one: not that it really matters i mean u can do what u want** _

_**player one: i bet ur just asleep tho** _

_**player one: i miss you** _

Jeremy did a double take. He blinked slowly, holding his eyes closed for a moment as his heart skipped a beat. When he opened his eyes, the last message was gone.

_**[player one has deleted a message]** _

Weird. Jeremy wasn't even quite sure he'd seen it at all - he'd probably read it wrong. He shrugged it off and made himself move on, not wanting to dwell on Michael or his feelings. 

Jeremy pushed his food away, no longer hungry. He'd been avoiding thinking about Michael all day, but the feelings of guilt and despair still worked their way into his brain. He didn't want to think about it, not ever. He knew that wasn't attainable, but he planned to put it off as long as possible. 

Speaking of, Jeremy decided, it was time for bed. 

He threw out the rest of his pasta and put his plate in the dishwasher, trudging upstairs. Now that he'd broken the seal, all of his anxieties about Michael were back in full force, and all Jeremy wanted was to sleep and turn them all off. 

When he got into his room, he pulled off is jeans and t-shirt, preferring to sleep in just his boxers. He climbed into bed and plugged in his phone. As he laid there in the dark, he fought the urge to text Michael. It was weird, not talking to him, but Jeremy's guilt immobilized him. Still, this was the longest they'd gone without really talking in months. With a sigh, Jeremy squashed the impulse down and pushed his phone farther away from him. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the stars glowing on his ceiling until he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, quietly drifting off to sleep.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> decided that this was a good breaking point so i ended this chapter here! i might post another chapter (much) later today, so keep an eye open for that (also sorry abt the chapter breaks i dont like using them but i kinda had to u know??)
> 
> thanks so much for 100 kudos!!!! it means the world to me!!! so do all of ur comments :')
> 
> catch me at choking-onholywater on tumblr, until next chapter!
> 
> (ALSO ! look at [this amazing art](http://mothmanmonthly.tumblr.com/post/166131629376/mixed-signals-chokingonholywater-so-yeah-maybe) that my very talented friend made for this fic!!! its beautiful and ive been staring at it for hours)


	7. high school kinda sucks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this got longer than i expected woah, heres 5k!

When he woke up the next morning, he didn't expect it to be to the sound of his father pounding on the door. 

"Whus goin on?" Jeremy slurred, drowsy from sleep. 

His dad opened the door, leaning against the doorframe. "You need to get up," he said simply. "You've got school."

Jeremy blinked a few times, not fully understanding what was going on. He rubbed his eyes, trying to banish the haze of sleep from his sight. 

"If you're still feeling sick, Jeremy, then we need to go to the doctor. Either that, or you get out of bed and go to school," his dad said, a stern expression on his face.

Jeremy groaned. His dad was rarely ever strict, but when he made up his mind, there was no changing it. 

"I'm getting up," Jeremy grumbled, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. His dad closed the door with a satisfied nod. 

Jeremy stood up, choking down the anxiety over going back to school. It would be fine, he told himself as he some snagged clean clothes out of his drawer. Maybe if he repeated it enough, it would be true. 

He pulled his new clothes on, taking a glance in the mirror. There were dark bags under his eyes and his hair fell strangely flat against his forehead. Jeremy let out a tired laugh, shaking his head. 

"At least no one will think I was lying about being sick," Jeremy muttered, deciding not to worry about his appearance. 

"I would rethink that decision."

Jeremy let out a groan. He recognized that voice, and he knew what he would see when he turned around. 

His Squip was sitting on the edge of his desk, leaning backwards slightly. He looked perfectly at home, and not at all like Jeremy had screamed at him during their last significant interaction. Just seeing him made Jeremy's stomach twist into knots, but he fought to keep to face neutral.

His Squip had been noticeably absent for the past two days, only appearing once the first day that Jeremy had stayed home. As soon as Jeremy had seen him, he'd shot him a scathing glare and spat out a venomous "fuck off" before turning away. When he'd looked back, his Squip had disappeared, and he hadn't shown up again until now.

"What do you want?" Jeremy snapped, crossing his arms. He was in no mood to play games, and he certainly wasn't in the mood for commentary from the jerk sitting on his desk.

"I'm only here to assist, Jeremy," his Squip answered smoothly. Jeremy glowered at him, but his Squip just smiled. 

"Whatever," Jeremy muttered. He half wanted to scream at his Squip, but he knew he didn't have the time, or the energy. Still, he couldn't help but thinking about how al of this was his Squip's fault. He knew that the Squip could hear his thoughts, but Jeremy found that he didn't care enough to stop. Instead, he tossed in a few extra choice words, hoping his Squip was listening.

He turned his back on the Squip and moved towards his door. He pulled it open carefully, then closed it behind him, making sure to seal the Squip in his room. He knew it didn't actually matter, since the Squip didn't physically exist, but hey - gestures matter! 

Jeremy walked down the hall to the bathroom, his Squip trailing behind him. He could feel his Squip's eyes on him as he walked, monitoring his every move. Jeremy fought the urge to throw up a middle finger behind him, instead reaching forward to push the bathroom door open. He turned around with a glare as he stepped trough the doorway of the bathroom, one hand resting on the doorframe. 

"Some fucking privacy, please?" he spat, glaring. 

"Of course," his Squip said, giving a mock bow before disappearing.

Jeremy turned around, feeling much more exhausted than he had before his Squip had shown up again. He splashed some water on his face, drying it off on his towel. He then brushed his teeth, staring at his reflection in the mirror. 

He heard his Squip's voice from earlier, telling him that he shouldn't go to school like that. Despite his efforts to ignore it, Jeremy found himself running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to style it. It looked a little bit better, and Jeremy pulled his hands away, gripping the edge of the sink instead. He spit out his toothpaste and ran the tap, splashing water until the porcelain was clean. 

He stepped back out in the hall and was immediately greeted by his Squip, who scrutinized Jeremy critically for a moment before nodding reluctantly. "A slight improvement to earlier," he said, gesturing to Jeremy's hair. This time, Jeremy didn't resist the urge to throw up a middle finger, flipping off his Squip as he headed back towards his room. 

His Squip materialized next to hima dyer a few steps, walking in sync with him. "Michael will be here in approximately thirty five minutes. I would recommend considering what you're going to say," his Squip advised. 

"Listening to you is what got me into this whole shit storm," Jeremy muttered angrily, walking back into his room.

His Squip paused outside the doorway, thinking. "No," he said after a beat of silence.  "I may have opened your eyes, but this would all be a non-issue if you would just deal with your feelings." 

Jeremy stopped, one foot across the threshold to his room. His face morphed quickly from an expression of shock to one of anger, and he whipped around to glare at his Squip, fists clenched at his side. "You don't get to blame this on  _me_! I was perfectly happy before you came along," he spat. 

His Squip let out a soft chuckle. "Obviously," he said, gesturing to himself with a soft smile, "you weren't." 

 Jeremy wanted to fight, wanted to argue, but he knew that his Squip was right. 

His life kinda sucked right now - he could hardly speak to Michael, he had an identity crisis every three minutes, and he couldn't even think about school without waves of nausea hitting him like a freight train. Still, had it really been that much better before? He'd been lying to himself for years, in love with the idea of a girl he barely knew, and had been desperate enough to change things that he'd spent most of his money on a questionable pill from Japan. 

At least now he knew who he was, even if he didn't like it. Even if it didn't make things easy. 

"I  _told_  you!" his Squip singsonged, a gleeful smile on his face. 

Jeremy groaned. He'd forgotten that the Squip could hear all of his thoughts; the last thing Jeremy'd wanted to do was tell his Squip the he was right, but it seemed like he'd done just that. 

He couldn't even summon up the anger to flip his Squip off, instead muttering a soft "fuck you" at the grinning figure behind him. 

Jeremy stepped into his room, leaving the door open behind him. A lot of the anger he'd felt towards his Squip had suddenly dissipated, and he didn't feel the need to make a point of being angry anymore. He picked up his bag, leading through it to make sure he had all of his things. 

Suddenly, Jeremy registered what his Squip had said earlier. "Oh, god," he muttered. His eyes widened and he dropped his bag on the floor with a thunk. 

His Squip stood up from where he'd been sitting on the desk, watching Jeremy with one brow raised as he frantically checked the time on his phone. "What exactly seems to be the problem?" he drawled, crossing his arms. 

"Michael!" Jeremy yelled in response, yanking his phone off the charger and pulling his bag onto his back. He pushed past his Squip and ran out the door into the hall. His socks slid on the carpet as he skidded to a halt in front of the stairs, bounding down them at top speeds. His Squip floated behind him, eyeing him with confusion. 

Jeremy dashed into the kitchen, snagging an apple out of the bowl on the kitchen table as he sped past. He sat down on the floor by the front door, stuffing his feet into his sneakers. 

"Woah, there, private!" Jeremy's dad chuckled. He folded his newspaper and watched from the kitchen table as Jeremy tried to tie his laces as quickly as possible. "Glad to see you're feeling better, but what's the big rush? Michael won't be here for another —" he checked his watch. "Half an hour."

"Yes, Jeremy," his Squip echoed, "what's the big rush?" 

Jeremy shot his Squip an "I'll tell you later" look, then turned his attention back to his shoes. His mind was racing as he tried to think of a reason for his speedy exit. 

"Jeremy?" his dad prompted. 

" _Oh_! Right," Jeremy stuttered. "Yeah, uh, I'm...going in to school early!" His dad looked at him curiously, leading Jeremy to continue. "Y'know, because I missed two days! I was supposed to take a French quiz yesterday, but now I'm gonna take it this morning! Maybe. And, uh, I've gotta talk to my physics teacher about the lab we were doing and —"

Jeremy's dad held up a hand to stop his son's babbling. "That's fine. Is Michael picking you up?" 

Jeremy looked back down at his shoes to his the flush that crept up into his cheeks, fiddling with his lace. "No," he said, his voice coming out like a whisper. He cleared his throat, then tried again. "No," he repeated, stronger this time. "I'm walking. I didn't want Michael to have to get to school so early." 

His father raised one brow. "You know Michael wouldn't mind - that kid would do anything for you," he said. "It's not like getting to school early is a big deal."

Jeremy looked down at his shoes again. He didn't wanna think about Michael, but his dad seemed determined to get an answer. "I just didn't wanna bug him," Jeremy mumbled, unable to meet his father's eyes. 

His dad looked at him curiously, then shrugged. "Alright, son. Have a good day at school," he called out as Jeremy slipped out the door. 

After a few minutes of hurried walking, Jeremy's Squip appeared next to him. They walked side by side for a while, the silence of the early morning settling on them like a blanket. 

Finally, his Squip broke the silence. 

"Are you going to tell me what we're doing, Jeremy?" Jeremy said nothing, just kept fiddling with the straps on his backpack. His Squip frowned, trying again after a few few beats of silence. "Why are we doing this?" Again, Jeremy ignored him, staring resolutely at the ground as he walked down the street. 

His Squip tried one last time. "Jeremy, if you don't tell me what's going on right now, I'm going to stop you right here until you do."

It was mostly an empty threat, but Jeremy whipped his head towards his Squip and glared anyways. "You wouldn't dare," he spat, not breaking his stride. 

"Oh, I would, and I will," his Squip replied, crossing his arms. "So tell me, why are we walking to school?"

Jeremy threw his hands up in exasperation. "Because Michael, okay! Because I couldn't handle sitting in his car and pretending like everything was fine and nothing had changed, alright? I couldn't take listening to his music and smelling that stupid vanilla air freshener that he hangs on the mirror and seeing his stupid fucking hoodie because everything is different and I can't deal with it! So I'm  _walking."_

Jeremy had stopped moving at some point during his outburst. He stood breathing heavily on the sidewalk, eyes glued to the ground.  

"Well. I....I see," his Squip said. "In that case, we need to keep moving. According to my calculations, we can make it to school on time if we maintain a gait of 4.2 miles per hour. Let's go." He began to walk forwards.

After a few beats, Jeremy dashed after him, settling into a rhythm of walking in sync why his Squip. They walked the rest of the way to school in silence. 

When they arrived at the school, Jeremy was greeted by the sight of Michael's P.T. Cruiser in the parking lot. Just seeing it made Jeremy's stomach fill up with dread. It didn't help that the walk to school had made him sweaty and uncomfortable, his boxers bunching weirdly under his jeans and his forehead slick with sweat. He pushed the feelings down with a sigh and forced himself up the steps and through the front doors. 

He navigated the halls with a sort of grace that came with years of practice, ducking between students and avoiding all the places he knew the popular kids liked to hang out. He kept his eyes glued to a poster at the end of the hall, not letting them stray. It was a foolproof method he'd found to survive at school: don't make eye contact, walk carefully, and try as hard as possible to disappear. 

Jeremy breathed a sigh of relief when he got to his locker unscathed. It was always a toss up at school, whether or not he'd be able to get to his locker without being harassed in the halls. 

Jeremy grabbed his physics binder, then went to close his locker. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He whirled around, praying it wasn't Michael. 

"Christine?"

The girl in question smiled up at him and gave a small wave. "Hey!" 

"Hey," Jeremy replied, confused. He could count the number of times he'd spoken to Christine on one hand, so he wasn't exactly sure why she was talking to him now. 

She seemed to pick up on his confusion. "Oh! Right, okay so! I wanted to apologize if I seemed rude at the drama club meeting, I was kinda in a bad mood because of the pre-calc quiz - I hate all the graph question! Like, when are we gonna need to know what domain of a cubic equation is in real life, y'know?" she asked, speaking so fast Jeremy could hardly keep up. 

"Anyways! I hope I didn't seem to mean at the meeting, I'm really super excited to be working with you for drama club this year! I've always thought that you were an incredible actor, plus like what middle school guy actually does theater? But you did and then you just kept doing it! And I just think that's super cool y'know?"

Jeremy nodded dumbly. Christine moved her hands excitedly as she spoke, and Jeremy almost smiled at the sheer energy coming from her. 

"But yeah! Theatre is just so good, we're gonna have so much fun this year! And —" She paused then, frowning slightly. "Where was I? Oh, right!" 

She smiled brightly up at Jeremy. "I was thinking maybe you could sit with me at lunch today and we could talk about the plans for drama club? I was really hoping that we could get the cast together sooner than last year - that was such a mess! And then we could have, like, a little party to get to know each other before we actually start rehearsing! Wouldn't that be great?" 

Jeremy nodded again. 

"Okay cool, so it's settled! I usually sit at the table by the windows in the middle, I'll see you then!" She gave another wave and the disappeared into the crush of students in the hall. 

Jeremy blinked, dumbfounded. "Wow," he breathed, still processing exactly what had just happened. After a moment, he glanced at the clock. That shocked him into motion - he was going to be late for physics if he didn't get a move on, and his teacher was a stickler for being on time.

He slammed his locker closed and darted down the hall, making it to the classroom just in time. As he settled into his seat, he couldn't help but think about the interaction he'd just had. 

It was like he'd said much, but he hadn't said anything dumb, either. He hadn't blushed, hadn't stuttered, hadn't felt any more anxious talking to her than he did with any other social interaction. It was weird, suddenly being able to talk to her without falling part into an incoherent mess. Now that he didn't have a crush on her anymore, talking to her was suddenly easy - especially because she did most of the talking. 

Still, the way she smiled and got so excited about whatever she was talking about made Jeremy happy. He hoped that they could be friends, especially now that he wasn't going to be extra awkward around her all the time. 

Jeremy forced himself to stop thinking about it, instead turning his attention to the front of the room where he teacher was giving notes. It didn't seem like he'd missed much in the past two days, which was a blessing. 

It wasn't until halfway through the period that Jeremy realized it was the first time all year the he and Michael hadn't walked into school together. The thought made Jeremy want to cry, so he shoved it back down and focused on his classes. 

The next few periods passed by in a blur. Jeremy was hardly paying attention, but it didn't seem like he'd missed anything important in his classes. Well, there was that quiz in French - he hadn't been lying to his dad about that one - but he wasn't too worried about making that up. 

The worst part of the day wasn't his classes, or the work he had to make up. The worst part, by far, was the walk to fifth period French.

Jeremy knew when he left music theory that there was a good chance that he would see Michael in the hallway. Really, it was almost guaranteed - he'd seen Michael on his way to French nearly every day that year. 

Knowing it was coming didn't really help. 

Jeremy had only taken a few steps out of the classroom when he spotted Michael's white headphones among the sea of students. Michael was looking down towards the floor, wearing his signature red hoodie. Jeremy's heart clenched at the sight of it and he stopped in the middle of the hall, heart pounding. A few kids angrily pushed past him, but it took a few seconds for Jeremy to start functioning again. 

Michael looked up, as though he could feel Jeremy's eye's on him. When he found Jeremy, his eyes lit up and a bright smile bloomed on his face. He raised his hand lazily in greeting, and Jeremy — well, Jeremy couldn't take it. 

He looked down at the floor, pushing through the crowded hall. He mumbled apologies as he shoved between people, desperate to get to class. He didn't let start to breathe again until he was safely at his desk, watching the trees wave slowly from inside the French room. 

His heart was pounding and he felt exhausted, way more than he had before he'd seen Michael.

His Squip appeared suddenly, but Jeremy shot him a mutinous glare and he nodded, disappearing again. Jeremy was in no mood for criticism or advice, and he was grateful that his Squip was letting him have some peace and quiet. 

French class passed by pretty quickly, and Jeremy was at his locker again before he knew it. He grabbed his history binder and closed the door, turning down the hall towards the cafeteria. He kept his head down, not wanting to run into any trouble. 

Of course, since the day was  _already_  bad and the universe was apparently plying some cosmic joke on him, trouble found Jeremy anyways. 

Just as he rounded the corner towards the cafeteria, there was a strong shove from against his side. Jeremy suddenly found himself careening into the lockers next to him, binder flying out of his grip. He slammed into the wall with a groan, pain shooting through his shoulder where it had bashed into the metal of the lockers. 

"Watch where you're going, tall ass!" 

Jeremy righted himself, then turned, frowning, towards the source of the voice.

Rich Goranski stared at Jeremy, grinning maliciously. He was short, about a whole head shorter than Jeremy himself, but that hasn't stopped him from bullying Jeremy nearly every day since he showed up freshman year. 

"J-just leave me alone, Rich," Jeremy muttered, staring at the floor. He gripped the straps of his backpack tightly, glancing at where his history binder had fallen when he'd slammed into the lockers. If he could just grab it, he could make an escape. He started inching slowly towards the binder, hoping Rich would just let him grab it and leave. 

"You trying to run away, Jeremy?" Rich asked, slamming one fist against the lockers between Jeremy and his binder. "God, that's pathetic," he said, laughing at Jeremy's wide eyed expression. 

"I said leave me alone," Jeremy repeated, but there was no real power behind the words. His eyes were still frozen on the ground, his shoulders hunched up as he toyed with the straps of his backpack. He couldn't deal with this today, not either everything else going on. 

"Please," he added, voice breaking. 

Rich laughed. "What, are you sad today Jeremy? Missing your  _boyfriend_?" he sneered, noticing Jeremy's reaction. "Oh yeah, I saw that you guys didn't walk in together today. Did he like, break up with you or something?" 

Jeremy said nothing, but he could feel the sting of tears behind his eyelids.  _Shit_ , he couldn't cry, not now! 

"Wow, even that fucking antisocial nerd doesn't like you! God, you're such a loser, Jeremy," Rich scoffed. He grinned as Jeremy curled in on himself, teeth bared like an animal going in for the kill. 

Before Rich could say anything else, Jeremy's Squip appeared next to him. After quickly surveying the situation, he muttered something, a string of words that Jeremy didn't understand. 

_"Up up down down left right A!"_

The effect was instantaneous. Rich's eye went blank, his face going completely slack. A second later, there was a bright smile on his face, an expression that Jeremy had never seen before. 

"You got one too?" Rich asked, grabbing Jeremy's shoulder's excitedly. 

Jeremy tried to shrug off his grip but couldn't. "Got one what?" he asked, uncomfortable. 

"A Squip, genius!" Rich answered, laughing. It was a genuine laugh, something Jeremy had never heard from Rich before, and he didn't know how to react.  

Rich sobered then, pulling his hands off from Jeremy's shoulders and stuffing them into his pockets. "Hey, sorry for treating you like human garbage all the time," he said quietly. "My Squip said that I had to, y'know? But now he's saying that you're an alright guy, now that you've got a Squip too!" He gave a grin, then punched Jeremy lightly on the arm. "Maybe you and I can hang out some time, play some video games or something? Your boyf— sorry, what's his name? Michael? Yeah, he could come too, I guess." 

Jeremy blinked. "Uh - yeah, sure," he mumbled. 

"Great!" Rich moved towards the door, then thought better of it. He bent down and scooped up Jeremy's binder, shoving it into Jeremy's hands with a grin.

"See ya around, tall ass!" He turned to leave, then stopped, smiling ruefully over his shoulder. "Sorry, habit!" he explained. He threw up a hand to wave goodbye and walked into the cafeteria, leaving Jeremy staring after him. 

Jeremy stood in the hall, watching as the door swung to a close behind Rich. He turned to his Squip. "Wha-what just happened?" he asked, gesturing towards the door Rich had just disappeared through. 

His Squip examined his nails. "Oh, nothing much, really. I simply made his desires compatible to yours by syncing with his Squip." 

Jeremy gaped at him. "How did you even know he had a Squip?  _How does Rich have a Squip?!_ "

His Squip looked up at him and scoffed. "You're not the only one who can buy things, Jeremy. I could tell you —" he stopped abruptly, eyes going blank. "—three other students at this school who have Squips, aside from you and Rich. We all share a base network, which allows us to detect other Squips in the area," he said by way of explanation. "It's a helpful feature - working in sync with other Squips can often aid the progress of all involved. For instance, Rich bullying you and Michael will no longer be a problem," his Squip drawled. 

Jeremy was dumbfounded. Was it really that easy? Just some kind of video game cheat code, and now his bully was his friend? 

"Yes, Jeremy," his Squip huffed. "It really is that easy. Now, you'd better hurry up and get in there," his Squip interjected, pointing towards the cafeteria. "Christine's waiting."

"What? Oh - yeah, right," Jeremy mumbled, blinking. He was still reeling from everything that had just happened, but he shook it off. He glanced towards the doors in front of him, anxiety building in his chest the way it always did when he was about to enter the cafeteria. 

After a moment and a few deep breathes, Jeremy pushed open the doors, unleashing a wave of chaos. His eyes desperately scanned the cafeteria, searching for Christine. He let out a sigh of relief when he say her, laughing with another girl who he recognized from the show last year. 

Jeremy made his way through the crowded room. He stopped awkwardly by the table where Christine sat, clearing his throat to get her attention. 

She glanced up, breaking out into a grin when she saw him standing there. "Oh! Hey, Jeremy! You can sit next to me right here, I was just telling Emma how we were gonna plan a party for the show this year!"

Christine gestured to the empty chair next to her as she spoke and Jeremy slid into it, hanging his bag on the back of the chair. He watched as Christine continued to talk excitedly, nodding occasionally. He laughed when she talked about how they needed better costumes ("Benevolio looked like a clown last year, Jeremy!"), and he offered his opinion on whether or not the should hold any Saturday rehearsals. The period flew by, and before Jeremy knew it, it was over. 

"Okay, so, we'll maybe talk again during lunch later this week? Or next week!" Christine offered, smiling, as the bell rang. 

"Uh, sure," Jeremy said, offering a small smile in return. 

"Cool! See you around, Jeremy!" she laughed, waving as she darted down the hall.

Jeremy walked to his history class, thinking about Christine, and how glad he was that he didn't act like such a freak around her anymore. She was actually really great, and Jeremy was excited to get to know her while they worked on running the school production. Besides, it was nice to have another person that he could call a friend.

Jeremy drifted through history class and pre-calc without much excitement. His math teacher handed back their last quizzes, and Jeremy got a perfect score. He silently thanked his Squip for that, grateful that he wouldn't be in danger of getting a bad average anymore. 

Gym passed uneventfully as well. The teacher wasn't there, so they didn't even have to change, which was Jeremy's favorite kind of gym class. He spent the period doing his physics homework. 

When the bell rang, Jeremy picked himself up off the floor and walked out of the gym. He walked down the hall towards his locker as quickly as the masses of students around him would allow. He bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time, then turned down the hall towards his locker. 

His twisted the knob on his lock and popped it open, yanking open the door. He tossed his gym bag inside before closing it again. He gave the lock a quick tug to ensure that it was closed. Satisfied, Jeremy hiked his bag up onto his shoulders and walked down the hall. 

He saw Christine as he walked down the stairs and she waved at him. He waved back, a grin ghosting his features. 

All in all, it had been a not too horrible day, Jeremy thought. He walked through the crowded halls and out the front door, moving on autopilot. He scanned the parking lot out of habit, then froze, the half smile slipping from his face. 

Michael was waiting by his P.T. Cruiser the same way he always was, leaning one hip against the side of the car. He was looking down at his phone, and Jeremy took the opportunity to duck behind a tree, heart racing.

He'd been so stupid! Everything had been going so well for the past few periods, he'd completely forgotten that he couldn't ride with Michael. 

His Squip appeared next to him, leaning lazily against the tree trunk. "Who says you can't?" he asked, gesturing towards the parking lot. "There's really no need for the theatrics, Jeremy. Just go over and get in Michael's car the way you usually do," he suggested. 

Jeremy glared at him. "Not. Happening," he said curtly. There was no way he could go ride in Michael's car. The thought made him as sick then as it had earlier, so he quickly dismissed it. 

"Fine, fine," his Squip muttered. "Whatever you say." He disappeared then, apparently fed up with Jeremy's stubbornness. 

Jeremy rolled his eyes at the spot where his Squip had stood, then twisted to his right to peek around the tree. Michael was was still standing by his car. He was looking around the parking lot -  _for me_ , Jeremy realized - so Jeremy quickly turned back to hide behind the leaves. He let out a long, slow breath. 

The walk home didn't exactly sound appealing, but what choice did he have? He still couldn't stomach the idea of actually seeing Michael. Another quick glance around the tree told him the Michael was still there, looking. 

Jeremy quickly made up his mind to just go for it - the longer he waited, the less students there were to hide in. He stepped out from behind the tree with his head down, trying to blend into the crowd of students walking out of the school. He walked with them for a few moments, then broke away to amble along with the other handful of kids who were waking home. 

He wanted to look back and see if Michael was still there, but he stopped himself. Instead, he hunched his shoulders and tried to disappear, hoping that Michael wouldn't see him as he walked down the street alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> geez you guys really like my squip well heRE HES BACK YOU CAN STOP ASKING IN THE COMMENTS (jk i loved all the comments asking about him)
> 
> but yep! thats chapter 7 (also lets play: how many direct refernces to bmc lyrics/lines can i fit in one chapter? i counted at least 5) ALSO chapter 8 is gonna be a different character's pov so watch out for that in the next day or so
> 
> i live for your comments!!!! lemme know what you liked, what you disliked, what your favorite ice cream flavor is - anything at all!!! 
> 
> until next time!! catch me over [here](https://choking-onholywater.tumblr.com) on tumblr !


	8. solo player

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi this chapter had to be split in two but take 7K!!

Michael drove down the street with the windows of his P.T. Cruiser rolled down, letting the crisp morning air flow through the car. It rippled softly through his hair, the cool force of it helping to wipe the drowsiness of the early hour away. Music played softly from his speakers and Michael couldn't help but tap out a beat on the steering wheel as he drove, bopping his head slightly to the beat. 

It was a short drive to Jeremy's house, and he was there before he knew it. He checked the clock on his dashboard - he was early. He decided to wait a few minutes, closing his eyes and leaning back into his seat. He let the beat wash over him, enjoying the cool air and the sound of music all around him. It was a good way to start the morning, and Michael hoped it would make for a good day. 

When the song finished, Michael slowly opened his eyes. Another glance at his dashboard told him that Jeremy was one minute late. He rolled his eyes; Jeremy was always late. It had become almost customary for him to appear only after Michael laid on the horn, so that's what Michael did. 

The beep of horn felt too loud in the silence of the early morning, but Michael didn't let it phase him. He'd been picking Jeremy up for school for months, so this was nothing new. 

When Jeremy didn't appear after a few minutes, Michael gave the steering wheel a couple more taps, the sound ringing in the quiet. He stared expectantly towards the front door, but nothing happened. Michael furrowed his brows. Jeremy didn't usually take this long to get out the door after Michael beeped. He waited a few more beats, but when the clock on the dashboard ticked another minute forwards, Michael decided to see what was happening. 

He pushed the door open and popped his seatbelt off, slipping of the the driver's seat. He closed the door behind him, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked up the driveway towards the front door. 

After walking up the steps, Michael stood in front of the wooden door, unsure of why to do next. Should he knock, or use the doorbell? He wasn't sure. Just as he reached out a hand to push the doorbell, the door swung open. 

"Oh! Hey, Mr. Heere," Michael said, waving sheepishly. 

Jeremy's dad was standing in front of him, leaning slightly against the door. He wasn't yet wearing pants for the day - something Jeremy complained about constantly. He smiled warmly at Michael, then said, "Hello, Michael!"

Michael shuffled his feet awkwardly. "I'm just here to - y'know. Pick up Jeremy for school," he said, making it sound more like a question. He let his eyes wander down to the ground. 

Mr. Heere gave a sympathetic smile. "Oh, actually, Jeremy's staying home from school today."

That got Michael's attention. He looked up at Mr. Heere, eyes slightly wider than before. "Oh, man, what's wrong?" he asked, concerned. 

Jeremy's dad shrugged. "He just woke up feeling under the weather. Figured one day home wouldn't hurt, right?" He glanced at his watch, then looked back at Michael. "You'd better get going, don't wanna be later for school!" he admonished. 

It was kind of hard to take the advice seriously when Mr. Heere wasn't wearing pants, but Michael just nodded in response. "Yeah, okay. I hope Jeremy feels better, sorry for bugging you, wish he would've texted me to let me know he was staying home." 

There was a slightly uncomfortable silence. Michael broke it after a few beats. "Uh, I'll see him later, maybe? 

Jeremy's dad nodded. "Sounds good. Have a good day at school, Michael," he added, smiling. 

"Sure thing, Mr. Heere," Michael answered. "See ya!" 

He heard the door close behind him as he walked back down the driveway towards his car. He yanked open the door and got inside, a vague sense of unease clinging to his skin. As he backed out of the driveway, he tried his best to convince himself that he was being irrational. Jeremy was just sick! People got sick all the time, he reasoned. 

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong. 

Michael tried to figure out was was bothering him as he drove down the street, his fingers starting to tap out a rhythm against the steering wheel involuntarily. There really wasn't any reason for him to think that there was something wrong, but he still felt like something was off. 

It hit him as he was turning the corner into the street the school was on. 

Jeremy had been acting weird yesterday, and now he was out sick. Michael was sure that's what had been eating at him. It explained the odd way Jeremy had acted, now that they knew he was sick enough to stay home from school. 

Not that Michael was  _complaining_  about how Jeremy had been acting. He'd been a lot more complimentary, going out of his way to tell Michael the he liked his hoodie and appreciated his music taste. And in lunch - Jeremy had stopped doing things like holding his hand when they were in middle school. It had been sweet of him to comfort Michael when he'd been feeling overwhelmed, and Michael certainly hadn't minded when Jeremy had grabbed his hands. 

So yeah, Michael  _definitely_  wasn't complaining about the extra affection, but it still felt weird. Like it was Jeremy, but one shade off - like someone had come into his home and shifted all the furniture one inch to the right. Not enough that you could even be sure there was something wrong, but just enough to be noticeable if you knew the space like the back of your hand. 

Michael tried to shrug off the troubling thoughts. It wasn't uncommon for him to dwell on little things, mulling them over until they grew from tiny things into massive problems in his head. He was sure it was nothing - Jeremy had probably just been feeling off from being sick. 

He'd arrived at school while he'd been thinking. Michael pulled into his parking spot, turning the car off. A glance at the clock told him he had somehow still managed to arrive at school early, so he snagged his phone from the cup holder next time. 

After a moment of deliberation, he decided to send Jeremy a text. 

**_player one: stopped over to pick u up this morning and ur dad told me u weren't feeling good. u better actually be sick and not be skipping without me!!_ **

He reread the text, then realized he sounded like he wanted Jeremy to be sick. He scrambled to type out another text. 

**_player one: wait no i don't hope ur sick_ **

**_player one: well i mean u probably r why else wouldn't u be here_ **

**_player one: anyways i hope u feel better_ **

**_player one: okay yeah that's it_ **

Embarrassed by his text spam but satisfied that he'd gotten his point across, Michael slipped his phone into the front pocket of his hoodie and pulled his headphones up onto his head. He snagged his backpack from the backseat and closed the door, making sure that both doors were locked before heading towards school. 

It felt weird to walk in without Jeremy. They'd been walking into school together since - well, since forever. Michael felt like a chunk of him was missing.

He shrugged the feeling off and walked through the front doors of the school, moving through the crush of students swiftly. He tried not to run into anybody as he made his way through the hall, turning left at the end towards his graphic design room. His fingers were tapping along to the music coming through his headphones - one of his favorite songs had come on - and he was in a pretty good mood by the time he settled into his seat in the graphic design room. 

Before the bell rang he checked his phone to see if Jeremy had replied. He frowned slightly when he looked at the screen.

**[read at 7:16 am]**

It wasn't like Jeremy to read a text and not respond. The bell rang suddenly then, so Michael dismissed it as Jeremy being sick and put his phone away. 

Graphic design went by quickly, and Michael was pretty pleased with the progress he'd made on his project by the time the class was over. He nearly fell asleep in English second period, but he managed to stay awake and get to his third period study hall with time to spare. 

He spent the period with his headphones on, jamming to his favorite playlist. He thought about texting Jeremy a few times throughout the period, but he restrained himself, not wanting to disturb him if he was sleeping. It was a nice break before pre-calc, which he had fourth period, and Michael let out a groan when the bell rang and he had to go to math. 

He walked through the halls quickly, savoring the last few moments he had to listen to his music. He stepped into his math room with a sigh, waiting until the bell was just about to ring to pause his music and lower his headphones around his neck. He tried his best to pay attention to what the teacher was saying, but his mind kept wandering to Jeremy. He hoped that he was feeling better. 

Michael was still thinking about Jeremy when the bell rang, freeing him from the world of end behaviors and interval notation. He gratefully closed his binder and pulled his headphones back on, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

He walked through the hall quickly, turning the corner towards his history class. A quick look at his phone told him that Jeremy still hadn't replied to his texts. Michael frowned as he weaved through the crowded hall, but he tried to squash his anxiety down as he stepped into his next class. 

Jeremy was sick, after all. He'd probably be asleep. Michael tried to convince himself that he wasn't all that concerned, but there was a lingering anxiety all throughout his history class. He tried his best to ignore it while he copied the teacher's notes from the front board. 

When the bell rang, Michael leapt out of his seat, grinning. Besides the end of the day, the end of fifth period was the best part of the day. He popped his headphones back on, letting the music flow through him as he darted through the halls towards his locker. 

When he got he there, he twisted his lock and popped it open, pulling the door open. He grabbed his physics binder for after lunch, bopping excitedly to the music in his ears. He closed his locked and out the lock back on, walking with a spring in his step down the hall. 

It wasn't until he'd already bounded down the stairs that the smile slipped from his face, his gait slowing. The cafeteria came into view as he rounded the corner, but Michael wasn't excited anymore. He'd completely forgotten that Jeremy wasn't there, but now that he'd remembered, he found he was in no hurry to get to lunch.

He paused outside the cafeteria doors, weighing his options. He could probably find somewhere to hide out for the period to avoid having to sit alone, but if he did that, he ran the risk of getting in trouble for "skipping" lunch. He didn't exactly welcome the idea of sitting alone, but it definitely beat getting a detention. 

With a sigh, Michael pushed opened the doors. He turned up his music and walked to his usual table, keeping his head down. He and Jeremy had been sitting at the same table since freshman year, just the two of them. 

It was nice, Michael figured, settling into his usual seat. He tugged off his backpack and pulled out his lunch, tucking his bag onto the back of his chair. Of course, the only reason they had a table to themselves was because nobody else wanted to sit with them, but Michael had accepted a long time ago that popularity just wasn't in his future. 

He had Jeremy; that was more than enough. 

Michael ate his lunch in silence, letting his playlist go on shuffle as he tapped his foot along to the beat. It wasn't nearly as enjoyable as when Jeremy was there, but nothing catastrophic happened, so Michael considered it a success. 

A few minutes before the period was over, Michael stood up and went to throw out his trash. He was careful to avoid the table on the far side of the cafeteria where all the popular kids sat - he'd had his fair share of embarrassing incidents courtesy of those kids. The bell rang as he was making his way back to his table, so Michael picked up the pace. 

He swung his bag over his shoulder and snagged his binder off the table, making his way out of the cafeteria. The flow of students split into two groups at the end of the hall and Michael stuck to the right, making his way towards his next class.

Forensics went by without a hitch, as usual, and Michael found himself in his second study hall of the day before he knew it. He made an attempt to work on his pre-calc homework before giving up, resigning himself to a period spent listening to music and nothing else. 

His last period of the day, physics, passed by quickly as well. They spent the period doing workpages, but Michael couldn't complain. He didn't mind the monotonous work, especially because his teacher let them listen to music while they worked. 

Still, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't glad to hear the bell signaling the end of class — and the end of the day. He gathered up his things quickly, squeezing his way out the door along with his other classmates. 

Luckily, his locker was only a few doors down the hall from his physics room, so Michael was able to throw his binder back in his locker and start making his way out of the building in no time. He couldn't wait to go home and chill out for a bit. 

It was a short walk to where he'd parked his car, and just a few minutes later, Michael was cruising down the road. Music was floating from his speakers and the windows were rolled down, a pleasant breeze sifting through his hair. He always like the drive home, knowing that he could look forward to a night of doing whatever he wanted (with some homework sprinkled in, of course). 

Michael slowed as he passed Jeremy's street, briefly entertaining the idea of stopping in. Then he remembered that Jeremy was sick and needed his rest, so he cruised past the turn. Plus, Michael really didn't wanna catch whatever Jeremy had. 

He pulled into his driveway and parked his car, twisting around to grab his bag from the backseat. He pushed open his door and hopped out of the car, making sure that it locked behind him. He strolled up the driveway, unlocking the front door and stepping inside his house. 

Michael breathed a sigh of contentment as he toed off his shoes and tossed them into the corner. He hoisted one strap of his bag up and over his shoulder, making his way towards the kitchen. After he grabbed a cup of water and a granola bar, he went downstairs.

When he got there, he threw his bag down and collapsed onto his bed. He laid in contented silence for a few minutes, glad to be home. When he'd had his fill, he forced himself to sit up. He grabbed his bag and dragged it towards him, pulling out the homework that he had to get done. 

He leafed through the papers: one sheet for pre-calc, an extended paragraph response for English, a handful of problems from his physics packet, and a worksheet to finish for forensics. There was also the history quiz tomorrow to study for, but Michael wasn't too worried about that. 

The homework levels for the night weren't too bad, really, in Michael's opinion. Still, he didn't want to wait too late to get his work done and have to try to do it at three in the morning, so he decided to get it done before he did anything else. He grabbed his phone to sync it to his speakers, deciding to check his messages as music began to play.

There was still nothing from Jeremy. Michael frowned, debating whether or not he should send Jeremy a text. The part of him that wanted to send the text won, so he typed out a quick message saying that he hoped Jeremy was feeling better and hit send before tossing his phone next to him on his bed. 

With that out of the way, he grabbed a pencil and his math homework and began to work. It didn't take long for him to finish that sheet. He grabbed his physics packet next, opening up to the problems that he had to get done for the next day. The first few were pretty easy, if a little time consuming. The third one stumped Michael - he spent five minutes glowering at it before giving in and grabbing his phone with a sigh. 

He copied the question into Google - thank goodness for yahoo answers, Michael thought wearily - and found an explanation of the answer and how to get there that he finished it in just a few minutes. He couldn't help but check his messages again while he was on his phone, by there was still nothing from Jeremy, even though it had been half an hour since he'd sent the first text. 

Michael frowned slightly. His fingers seemed to move of their own accord as they tapped against his phone screen.

**_player one: hey dude text me back when u see these_ **

**_player one: i know you're probably asleep right???_ **

**_player one: yeah okay u probably r_ **

**_player one: still tho text me okay ?_ **

He put his phone down again, reminding himself that  _Jeremy was sick, he's probably asleep!_ It was becoming Michael's mantra for the day, and he hated how anxious he was getting over Jeremy missing just one day of classes.

He forced himself to push his phone a little father away, grabbing for his English assignment instead. It was something about Ben Franklin - he hadn't really been paying attention in class, but he was sure he could bullshit the paper like he always did. Jeremy might have had the higher grades of the two, but there was a reason Michael was always on the honor roll, and it wasn't paying rapt attention in every class. 

So bullshit he did. For the next hour, he typed, edited, and retyped a paper on virtues and personal experiences, linking it all back to Benjamin Franklin in a neat little conclusion. It was about two pages long by the time he was done - the assignment was technically only one page of writing, but he figured he'd do some extra just because he could.

Michael honestly liked to write; it was kinda fun, putting your thoughts down on paper, searching for the perfect word. He didn't write much on his own, but he was never mad when they had short writing assignments. Even bullshitting them was fun to Michael.

Okay,  _especially_  bullshitting them was fun to Michael. 

At any rate, Michael finished typing out his paper and glanced over it quickly, looking for typos. Not seeing anything that stuck out as horrible, he printed out his short paper and tucked it off to the side. He catalogued what he'd worked on so far, noting that he still had a sheet for forensics and the looming threat of a history quiz the next day. His history textbook taunted him from where it sat on the floor, but Michael chose not to think about reviewing for the quiz yet. He moved instead for his forensics sheet, then hesitated, catching sight of his phone 

It took everything in him not to check if Jeremy had replied. He forced himself to work on his forensics sheet instead, pausing slightly to think about each question before penciling in an answer. It didn't take him long to finish the sheet, and then he had to decide if he was ready to crack open his textbook and get down to studying. 

Michael quickly decided that he wasn't. 

He got up from his bed and stretched his arms, relishing in the slight pull throughout his muscles. He'd been scrunched up over his homework for a little more than two hours, and he was starting to cramp up. He was also starting to get really hungry. 

He grabbed his phone from his bed and bounded upstairs. Once he got into the kitchen, he paused, not sure what he wanted to eat. Usually one of his moms was home and she would plan something, but they were away on a business trip, so Michael was on his own. He pulled open the fridge and peered inside, but there wasn't anything good. He closed the refrigerator and walked over to the pantry, flipping on the light. A quick look told him there wasn't much there, but he did end up finding a box of macaroni and cheese after a bit of digging. 

Michael hummed softly to himself as he put on a pot of water, letting his mind wander while he waited for it to boil. He couldn't help checking his phone again, but there was still nothing. He sighed, stopping himself from sending yet another text to Jeremy. There was no reason for Michael to be so worked up and he knew that, so he put on his favorite chill playlist and just enjoyed the music as he cooked his dinner. 

When it was all finished, he dished some out onto a plate and brought it back into the basement. He settled back on his bed, debating whether he should just sit and enjoy his food or if he should start reading his textbook. He groaned, knowing that if didn't start now he wouldn't do it at all. With a huff, he bent over and snagged the heavy book off the floor. He balanced it on his lap and settled in with his dinner for an exciting hour of reading about the XYZ Affair and Alexander Hamilton. 

Michael wasn't exactly the best at staying focused, especially not on the dry kind of writing used in his textbook, so it took him a while to get through the reading. By the time Michael was actually done with the chapter, it had been two hours. He closed the book with a sense of accomplishment, hoping that at least some of what he'd read would stick with him for the next day's quiz.

After staring blankly at his wall for a few minutes, Michael blinked, shaking himself from his stupor. He cracked his neck, which was starting to ache from being bent over his textbook, and then his knuckles. He sighed in contentment as he went, popping each finger one at a time. He stood up then, twisting left and right. He relished in the loud  _pop_ thatsounded as he did, feeling loose and relaxed. 

He turned around and grabbed his dirty plate off of his bed, bringing it upstairs to put in the dishwasher. When he got back downstairs he stopped at the foot of the stairs, deciding what he wanted to do now that he'd finished his homework. His eyes settled on the tv, and he decided it was a good night for some video games. 

Apocalypse of the Damned was still in the console from when he'd played with Jeremy a few days ago. Michael was cool with that - bashing zombies was always a good way to relieve useless anxieties. He settled onto his beanbag chair as the game booted up, clicking the buttons on the controller excitedly. Soon he was lost in the game, eyes wide as he ducked away from zombies and tried to make it through each level. 

Time flew by as he played, slowly inching closer to the screen. It grew darker outside until it was pitch black, the only light coming from the fluorescent glow of the television. 

Two hours later, Michael was nearly on top of the television, frantically mashing buttons on the controller in his hands. "Come on, come  _on_ ," he muttered, eyes locked in the screen. "Just a little bit more -  _fuck!_ " he exclaimed, jumping to his feet as his character was nearly snatched up by a zombie that had appeared from behind a door. He managed to slip out of the way at the last second, but Michael's heart was beating fast as he crept down the dimly lit hallway onscreen. 

He breathed out a sigh of relief when he made it down the hallway unscathed, pushing into the room at the end of the hall. He quickly tensed up again as he realized where he was: the pediatric ward. Michael's breathing picked up as his character moved slowly between the overturned hospital beds. Fear bubbled in his gut each time he had to pull back a curtain to move forward, and he was flooded with uneasy relief every time there was nothing there. 

Michael made his character take another few steps forward, but then he froze, having seen something flare on the ease of his vision. He turned, but he couldn't make out anything in the dark. Then he saw a bright red blip appear on his radar on the corner of the screen. His eyes grew wide as the dot disappeared, hands starting to sweat. There was only one thing that would show up and disappear like that. 

"Shit!" Michael yelled, the blip appearing again, much closer to him. A second dot flashed a moment after the first on the opposite side of the radar, and Michael slammed down on the joystick, making his character break into a run. He bolted blindly through the pediatric ward, heart pounding as he saw what could have been a third red dot appear on the radar. 

 There was only one thing that appeared and disappeared like that: zombie kids. Michael had completely forgotten that he was playing level nine, where they were the boss fight. They were incredibly fast, and all you could do was run for your life and look for a way out. 

 "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" he panted, eyes scanning the screen wildly as he tried to find an exit. "Shit - wait, yes!" Michael exclaimed with a whoop, having ran straight into a door. He jammed down the button to open the door, watching his radar anxiously. The door opened slowly and Michael pushed it open, shoving his character out of the pediatric ward. 

"Haha, yes, take that! That wasn't so b—  _waitfuckshit_!" Michael yelled, jerking his entire body away from the screen as red dots suddenly flared all around him in the radar. He was in some closed off area of the ward, and there were zombies everywhere. He tried to turn back around and exit, but there was no way out. He grimaced as a horde of zombie children overtook him, blood splattering across the screen with a glowing "game over" message across it. 

Michael settled back into his beanbag chair with a sigh, heart pounding. Level nine was all but impossible without a partner, and Michael couldn't help but wish his player two was there with him. With a glance at the empty beanbag chair beside him, Michael decided he was done with video games for the night.

He stood up, suddenly exhausted, and turned off the television. The room was plunged into darkness and Michael fumbled for his phone, visions of zombie children flashing in his mind as he struggled to turn on the flashlight. He breathed a sigh of relief when it turned on, illuminating the room with a harsh white glow. 

He made his way over to his bed and clicked on the lamp, turning off his flashlight. Michael realized he was still wearing his clothes from school, so he quickly pulled them off in favor of an old t-shirt and a clean pair of boxers. His eyes felt heavy and he practically collapsed into bed. 

He plugged in his phone and checked to make sure that his alarm was on before setting it face down on the desk next to his bed. He pulled his blankets up around him and had barely taken off his glasses when he feel into a deep sleep. 

___________

Michael woke up to the sound of Bob Marley blaring from his phone. He blearily pawed for his phone, eventually finding it and tapping the screen until the song turned off. Michael melting back into his pillow, nearly asleep when Bob Marley began to blare again. 

Michael sat up with a scowl, reaching for his phone. Damn past him for knowing that he would need to set multiple alarms! 

He turned off the alarm and threw his blankets to the side, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He cracked his back and his neck, relishing in the release of tension with each  _pop_. He stretched his arms with a yawn, then stood up. 

He rubbed his eyes, realizing that he hadn't showered the night before. He felt like a film of grime clung to his skin and he grimaced, deciding that he needed to take a shower immediately. 

Michael walked across his room to the small bathroom that was attached, slipping inside turning on the shower. He stepped in after stripping down, enjoying the feel of the hot water on his back. He washed his hair quickly and turned the water off, stepping out into the bathmat. After drying his hair off with his towel he wrapped it around his waist, opening the door back to his room. 

He glanced at the clock on his desk. It was 6:32. He still had about twenty minutes until he had to leave to pick up Jeremy.

He paused then, realizing he didn't even know if Jeremy was going to school. He grabbed his phone from where it sat on the desk and typed a quick text.

**_player one: u coming to school today? i can come pick u up_ **

He put his phone down and went to get dressed, pulling on an old t-shirt. He picked up a pair of jeans off of his floor and sniffed them to make sure they were clean (they were). He pulled them on, then snagged a black hoodie that was hanging over the back of his chair. He tugged it over his head, running a hand through his hair. He grabbed his headphones and settled them around his neck, letting the chord dangle. 

He walked back into the bathroom to brush his teeth, then gelled his hair into its usual style. He surveyed his reflection, then shrugged. It wasn't like he had anyone to impress at school anyways. 

Well, not anyone that would care whether or not his hair was perfectly styled. 

Speaking of, Michael grabbed his phone. Jeremy still hadn't texted back. He hummed quietly as he tucked his phone into his pocket, grabbing his bag off of the floor. He did a quick sweep of his room to make sure he'd grabbed everything he needed. Satisfied, he headed upstairs. 

In the kitchen, he grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and poured himself a bowl of cereal and milk. He ate quickly, keeping an eye on the time. 

He picked up the bowl and tipped the rest of the milk back just as the clock ticked to 6:42. Michael dumped his bowl in the sink, hoping he'd remember to take care of it later. He made his way towards the front door, pulling out his phone as he walked. Jeremy still hadn't texted back, so Michael decided to go over anyways. 

Just as he made the decision, his phone pinged, letting him know he had a text. 

_**player two: no** _

Michael stared at his phone, then shrugged. Jer must be really sick, he thought belatedly as he pulled his shoes on. The thought made Michael concerned, but he tried his best to ignore it. 

The drive to school passed quickly, and Michael was walking into the building before he knew it. He had his music playing loudly, enjoying the slight buffer it gave him from the rest of the world. There was a slight swagger in his step as he walked, moving in beat to the music playing in his ears. 

He was so into his music that he accidentally bumped into someone in the halls. 

"Hey, watch it, loser!" 

Rich's booming voice burst through Michael's music and Michael stopped, flustered. He hated the way that everyone was staring at him now, and he glued his eyes to the floor. He tried to push past Rich, but the shorter boy moved to block his path. 

"I want a fucking apology," he sneered. When Michael didn't say anything, Rich continued. "Can't you hear me through those dorky headphones? Jesus," he muttered reaching an arm out as if to pull them from Michael's head. 

Michael took a step back, moving safely out of Rich's reach. All he wanted was to get to class, but Rich hadn't had enough yet.

"Woah, calm down, loser. You're almost as pathetic as your boyfriend," he laughed, a cruel glimmer in his eyes. A few people laughed along with him.

Michael felt his face heating up. He took another step backwards, bumping into someone behind him. "Sorry," he mumbled, eyes still locked on the floor. He dragged his eyes up towards Rich's face and mumbled, "Just leave me alone." 

Rich seemed surprised that Michael had said anything, and Michael used the moment to his advantage to push past Rich and make his way down the hall. 

"Gay!" he heard Rich yell after him. Michael just turned his music up louder, trying to block out the laughter that chased him down the hall. It wasn't like anybody really besides Jeremy knew, even if he did have a pride patch on his hoodie. People usually didn't look the closely at him. 

Michael wished that Jeremy was there. Things never seemed as bad with his best friend by his side, and he always helped Michael shake off the bad mood that followed Rich's taunts. Since he wasn't there, Michael knew that his bad mood was going to last the rest of the day. 

He drifted through graphic design and English, paying practically no attention at all. He thought about texting Jeremy during his third period study hall, but he decided against it. He didn't wanna send something just because he was in a bad mood and regret it later. 

Pre-calc passed by without incident, and history consisted of Michael staring out the window while his teacher droned on about George Washington's Farewell Address. He felt a sense of dread growing in his gut as he thought about lunch the next period, but he went anyways. 

The chaos of the cafeteria was as bad as always when he walked in, and Michael was pretty sure he heard Rich yell something at him from across the cafeteria. He tried not to think about it, settling in at his normal spot. He could've sworn that a few more insults were hurled his way during the period, but it was hard to tell when his music was turned up as loud as it could go. 

Lunch crawled by at an agonizing pace without anyone to talk to or anything to do, and Michael was incredibly relieved when it was over. 

Forensics flew by in a flash. Michael was grateful that he'd remembered to do the homework - his teacher decided to collect it. He could hardly pay attention, the ghost of his earlier interaction with Rich clinging to him like a second skin. Whatever he'd been yelling at Michael in lunch certainly hadn't helped his mood, either.

He felt a bit better in his study hall the next period, but he still felt like the day couldn't end soon enough. One day of school without Jeremy had been bad enough; two was hellish. 

Speaking of Jeremy, Michael decided to text him and see if he wanted Michael to drop off the work that he'd missed. After he hit send, Michael leaned forward and crossed his arms on his desk, resting his head in the crook of his elbow. He stayed that way, enjoying his music, until a notification interrupted the song. 

He glanced at his phone. It was a text notification from Jeremy. Michael perked up immediately, sliding his phone open excitedly. 

_**player two: no, got it covered** _

Michael frowned. He didn't know who else would bring Jeremy his work, but why would he lie? Michael didn't have much time to ponder it, the bell ringing a moment later. 

His last period of the day was over before he knew it (they spent the period correcting the homework). Michael had never felt more relieved to dump his stuff in his locker and make his way out of the school. Getting in his car felt like removing a weight from his chest, and he felt better with each passing second as the school disappeared in his rear view mirror. 

He considered again stopping by Jeremy's house, but he decided against it for the same reasons as the day before: there was no need to bother him, and Michael wasn't in a hurry to get sick. Michael squashed down the prickles of anxiety over Jeremy's wellbeing and drove the rest of the way home in silence, reminding himself that being home sick for two days wasn't anything to worry about. 

Once he got home, Michael collapsed gratefully onto his bed. It had been a very,  _very_  long day, and he wanted nothing more than to just lay on his bed. He realized that he didn't have much homework, so that's what he did: laid on his bed, music playing through his headphones limbs spread out awkwardly across the bed. 

After a while, Michael decided he wanted something to eat, so he got up and walked into the kitchen. He cursed softly when he remembered how lacking the food options were, but settled for popping a big of microwave popcorn. The smell filled up the house, making Michael's stomach rumble. He took it back down to the basement, resuming his position on his bed with a contented sigh. 

It wasn't until a few hours later that Michael realized he'd never texted Jeremy back. He frowned again as he looked at the text, unsure what exactly to say. He couldn't imagine that Jeremy had asked anyone else to bring him his work, and he had an even harder time imagining anyone seeking Jeremy out to offer to help. He wasn't even sure that anyone else at their school had Jeremy's cell phone number. 

Michael sighed. Even if he didn't get it, he trusted Jeremy. He typed out a quick response. 

**_player one: okay. school's been weird without u, hope u feel better soon_ **

After a few ore minutes of laying on his bed, Michael checked his phone to see if Jermey had texted him back. He hadn't. 

Michael frowned, his fingers typing out another message before his brain had even caught on to what was going on. 

**_player one: ur probably sleeping a lot which is why u aren't replying right_ **

He typed and sent the next message just as fast, wanting to cover up his anxiety in the previous text.

**_player one: not that it really matters i mean u can do what u want_ **

Michael hit send confidently, not wanting Jeremy to feel like he was a bad friend for not replying when he was sick. Then Michael realized that his text could be misinterpreted as passive aggression, so he promptly send another one, hoping to clarify his tone. 

**_player one: i bet ur just asleep tho_ **

Michael was about to put his phone back on the desk when he had the sudden urge to send another text. He opened up the messages app and typed out a few quick words, then hit send.

_**player one: i miss you** _

As soon as Michael hit send, a sense of dread filled his gut. Was that too much? He did really miss Jeremy, but was saying so too weird? Was it more than friendly? He didn't know. Things were always a bit blurred for him when it came to Jeremy. Deciding to err on the side of caution, he deleted the text. 

_**[player one has deleted a message]** _

Michael didn't even noticed the small _**[read at 5:24 pm]**_ notification next to his texts. He suddenly felt sick looking at the one-sided conversation between himself and his best friend. He turned off his phone quickly and shoved it away from him, out of sight. He didn't want to send any more texts to Jeremy just then, much preferring to lay on his bed in peaceful silence alone.

In fact, for the rest of the night, he did his best to avoid thinking about Jeremy at all. It mostly worked, and Michael passed the evening playing video games, eating junk food, and doing homework. 

After a few hours of that, Michael became incredibly tired. He went to sleep early, and wanting to text Jeremy was the last thing on his mind before he passed out for the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew!!!! so yeah the next chapter will pick up where this one left off, hope you enjoyed seeing how our boy mikey is doing ! he doesnt seem to like playing life as a solo player too much, huh...
> 
> next chapter is gonna be fun (not for you guys, but for me). see you guys then!!
> 
> feel free to hmu at @choking-onholywater on tumblr until then!


	9. and suddenly, he was alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhhh another 7k? yes.
> 
> also there is a pretty intense description of a panic attack in this chapter, please be careful!

Everything was still dark and silent when Michael woke up, heart pounding. His eyes flew open, panic coursing through his veins as his struggled to make the leap from his dreams back into reality. The start of something he wanted to say but could no longer make out was stuck in his throat, something that didn't have any place in the real world now that he was awake. 

He took a few deep breaths, eventually dispelling the feeling like there were words on the tip of his tongue ready to burst out. He couldn't even remember what he'd wanted to say, and he only had a vague recollection of what he'd been dreaming about. It was the same thing he'd dreamt about every few weeks for the past couple of years in one form or another.

It was always him and Jeremy, doing anything from sitting together at lunch to smoking in his basement. Sometimes they we're doing nothing at all, just simply existing together. On some occasions, his brain was too lazy to even formulate a coherent story, instead just providing him with a vague impression of Jeremy and himself amidst the inky blackness of his imagination. It didn't matter what they were doing or if they were doing nothing at all - ultimately, the dreams all turned into the same thing.

Something would go wrong, and Jeremy would leave him. 

It wasn't always the same way - some nights there was angry screaming or desperate crying, and some nights he was just suddenly  _gone_. Other times Michael couldn't even remember how it had happened, only knowing that it had by the crippling feeling of panic and loneliness that was settled in his chest when he woke up. 

It almost always meant the day was going to be bad, and Michael sometimes dreaded going to sleep just in case it was going to be a night where he had the dream. They always made him feel exhausted later that day, regardless of how much sleep he'd gotten. 

Speaking of how much sleep he was getting, Michael rolled into his side and squinted at his alarm clock, trying to make out the numbers in the dark. It looked like at was just a little after five in the morning. 

Michael moved into his back again, staring up at the ceiling. Really, he was just staring up into the darkness, unable to make out anything in the pitch blackness. He knew that he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. He never could after those dreams, the idea of losing his player two too much to bear. 

His player two. The phrase always made Michael smile. He and Jeremy had started calling each other "player one" and "player two" in middle school, and before long it became " _my_  player one", " _my_  player two". It made him feel warm, knowing that Jeremy belonged to him in this small way. 

Besides, Michael wasn't really sure what other word he could use for Jeremy. They were best friends, of course, but it felt like there had to be something more meaningful, some kind of word that would show how deeply the two were connected. There wasn't a word for all the things Michael felt for Jeremy, so he made "player two" mean all of it at once. Jeremy didn't know half of what the nicknames meant to Michael, but that was probably for the best.

Michael tried not to think too much about his feelings towards Jeremy. It was just too cliche, being in love with your best friend. He hadn't even labeled it as a crush. He was hoping that maybe, if he just left it alone and unnamed, it would go away. So far that hadn't worked, but Michael was holding out hope. 

He rubbed his eyes in the dark, shaking himself from that train of thought. There was no use dwelling on it. 

Instead, Michael reached for his phone. He winced at the brightness, checking his messages open out of habit. There were no new notifications. He frowned, thinking about how Jeremy had hardly replied to any of his texts over the past few days. Michael's racked his brains, but he couldn't think of anything in particular that he'd done wrong. 

He turned off his phone with a sigh. The logical part of him knew that Jeremy was sick, so there really wasn't any reason to be concerned that he wasn't reply to Michael's texts. He needed his rest; it was ridiculous to be so worried!

But then there was the other part of him, the nasty whispering part that insisted the reason Jeremy had been distant for the past few days was because this was it - he'd finally realized he could do so much better than Michael and he was leaving. As much as Michael tried to shove that voice back down, it was stubborn. He couldn't help the niggling feeling of doubt in the back of his mind: what if Jeremy really was abandoning Michael, and ignoring his texts was just his way of showing Michael that it was done? What if he was just slowly trying to cut Michael off, to move on to newer, cooler friends? 

Michael shivered in the darkness, a damp chill settling in his chest at the thought of Jeremy leaving him behind. He pulled his blankets tighter around him, trying to keep his breathing steady. It was bad enough that is was a nightmare day - he didn't want it to be a breakdown day, too.

With a shuddering breath, Michael decided that he should go take a shower. It usually helped when he got stuck in his own thoughts, and it wasn't like he was short on time. 

He pulled himself quietly out of bed, navigating the pitch black room with the ease of someone who spent the majority of their time in one space. When he got to the bathroom he flicked on the light, blinking at the sudden brightness. His squinted while he waited for his eyes to adjust, letting the water in shower heat up. By the time it was warm enough to get on, his eyes had adjusted to the light. 

He stepped into the shower and immediately felt better. The heat was soothing on his back and shoulders and the steady rhythm of it helped to drive away the anxious voice still whispering in his ear. He closed his eyes, just enjoying the feeling of the water falling onto him. 

The nightmare was fading into a dim memory, and Michael felt himself sink onto the floor, pulling his knees up to his chest. He had plenty of time, so he figured he could afford to just sit in the shower for a bit. He let his eyes close, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on top of his knees. It was peaceful, just the steady beating of the water on his back and the sound of his breathing filling the air. He could feel himself drifting towards sleep as the steam clouded the bathroom, but each time his head lolled to the side, he'd get struck with the memory of his dream and snap back to alertness. 

So, the shower wasn't exactly fixing things. Michael sighed from his position on the floor, wishing that he hadn't had the dream last night. He'd known that he was due for it soon, but with everything going on with Jeremy, it felt worse than usual. He tipped his head to the side and rested his cheek against his knee, letting water run down his face. 

Michael thought about getting out of the shower and making himself an actual breakfast - eggs, maybe, and some toast. The thought made his stomach rumble, but he couldn't find it in himself to actually get up. He knew that if he got out now, he'd have plenty of time to not only make breakfast, but also put some actual effort into his appearance. It felt important today, for some reason, and Michael wanted to get out of the shower, but he couldn't. 

Instead, he just sat on the shower floor, letting the water rush over him. His breathing was slow and deep, and he stared unseeing at the tiles in front of him. He stayed there until the water cooled to a lukewarm drizzle, and then until it ran cold. Even then, he sat there on the floor, exhausted by his bad dream and his anxieties about his best friend, until he realized he was shivering under the now frigid water. 

Michael stood up, turning off he water. Now that he'd broken the spell, he found that he really was cold. He stepped out of the shower with a shiver, flinching at the cold air against his skin. Every drop of water that dripped from his hair and rolled down his back made shiver, and he was glad to wrap himself tightly with his towel, expelling some of the chill. 

He walked back into his room, letting the light from the open bathroom door illuminate the way. He'd been in the shower for way longer than he thought, and he was going to need to hurry if he wanted to get to school on time, especially considering he had to stop at Jeremy's house. 

The thought made him pause as he stood in front of his open closet, one hand resting on a hanger. Was he supposed to pick Jeremy up today? He hadn't heard anything from his this morning, and he didn't know if Jeremy was going to school or not. 

He picked up his phone, towel still slung loosely around his hips, but there was no messages from Jeremy. Michael shoved his anxiety back down and reasoned that if there was no text saying that he  _shouldn't_  go pick up Jeremy, he probably should. 

Michael nodded more confidently than he felt, trying to convince himself that Jeremy would have texted him if he wasn't going to school again. Of course he would, they were best friends. They kept each other in the loop. It was just what they did.

He ignored the fact that Jeremy hadn't texted him either of the past two days to say that he wasn't going to school, instead hurrying get dressed. He pulled on an old shirt and some jeans. He grabbed his red hoodie from the doorknob where he'd hung it after he'd washed two days ago and pulled it on. It smelled fresh and Michael breathed it in as he headed upstairs, trying to find some sense of peace in the crisp scent. 

He put some Poptarts in the toaster, the sweet smell filling the quiet kitchen. He looked at his reflection in the mirror on the wall, fiddling with his hair and the way that his hood laid against his back. He noticed that had slight bags under his eyes, and he sighed quietly as he surveyed his appearance. He tore his eyes away when the toaster popped, quickly snatching his breakfast from the slot. 

A glance at the clock told him he'd gotten ready just in time and he grabbed a napkin to wrap up his Poptarts in. He broke a piece off and popped it in his mouth as he shoved his feet into his shoes and walked outside, locking the door behind him. 

The drive to Jeremy's house was short, but it was enough time for Michael's insides to tie themselves in knots. He'd never been this nervous pulling into Jeremy's driveway before. He thought about just beeping the horn like usual but decided against it. It felt important, for some reason, to go up to the door in person today.  

He tried to tell himself that there was no reason he shouldn't be at Jeremy's house, but his breathing was still uneven as he stepped out of the car.  His heart pounded as he rang the doorbell, waiting anxiously for someone to answer he door. 

After a few beats of nervous fiddling, someone did open the door. Michael looked up, eyes wide, and saw — 

"Mr. Heere?" he asked, brows furrowed. "I mean, hey, is Jeremy ready to go? Or is he still sick? I wasn't sure," Michael rambled, his heart still thudding out an erratic beat inside his chest as he spoke. His hands twitched, grasping at anything they could find as he looked at the ground. "I didn't wanna not show up if he did need a ride, but if he isn't going to school then obviously he, uh, won't need a ride," he finished lamely. 

A strange emotion crossed over Mr. Heere's face, but it was quickly replaced with a small smile. "Michael, Jeremy is already at school," he said plainly. 

Michael stopped figeting, making eye contact with Jeremy's dad for the first time since he'd started talking. Jeremy was already at school? But that didn't make any sense - how did he get there? Why was he there so early? And why hadn't he texted Michael? 

Michael felt a pang of hurt, but all he said in response was, "Oh." 

Jeremy's dad gave another small smile, eyes apologetic. "He said he had to go in to catch up on a few things, didn't wanna make you have to go in early," he explained. 

Michael nodded, or at least he thought he did. His mind had moved beyond the conversation with Jeremy's dad, back to that anxious, whispering corner of his mind. He concluded the conversation somehow and walked back to his car, a strong sense of sadness filling his lungs. 

Why hadn't Jeremy just asked him for a ride?  Michael thought about all the way to school. He became more convinced with every second that Jeremy was ignoring him purposely, trying to get rid of him. By the time he pulled into the school parking, he was sure that it was going to be an awful day. 

Thankfully, he made it into the building without incident. There was no Rich waiting to torment him today, and Michael was so incredibly relieved. 

As he walked down the crowded hall alone for the third time in a row, he couldn't help the pang in his chest. His breathing started to pick up again and he could feel his heart start to speed up. He needed to go somewhere with at least a little bit of privacy,  just to get out of the crowd and calm himself down. Making the executive decision that being late to graphic design was better than crying in class, Michael ducked into the bathroom. 

He walked over to the sinks and rested his hands on the cool porcelain, taking a few deep breaths. It was all he needed, really, and he walked back out into the hall, everything back under control. As he turned out of the bathroom, he froze. 

There was still a crowd of people in the hall, but Michael could see Jeremy pushing open the main doors. He was sweating, and he threaded quickly through the sea of people before turning the corner and disappearing. 

Michael was shocked. 

Hadn't Mr. Heere said Jeremy had to get to school early? He certainly didn't look early to Michael. 

Michael fought the urge to go back in the bathroom and hide, forcing himself to walk to graphic design and act like his mind wasn't racing. Like he wasn't trying frantically to find an explanation to what he'd just seen other than that Jeremy was avoiding Michael because he wanted to get rid of him. Like he didn't want to scream, or cry, or maybe both. 

For the first time, graphic design dragged on as slowly as anything Michael had ever experienced. The classroom was suddenly stifling; his usual easy banter with the teacher died on his lips, a pained twist taking its place. It was a good thing he was far ahead of the class, because he didn't think he could have gotten anything done that period. 

All he could think about was that Jeremy had lied, for some reason, and Michael didn't know why. He and Jeremy didn't lie to each other, didn't keep secrets from each other. It jus wasn't something that they did. The fact that Jeremy had been so desperate to get away from Michael that he'd lied about getting to school early made Michael want to shrivel up and disappear. 

Of course, there was the faint arguments from his logical side, telling him that was an unreasonable jump to make. Saying that, maybe, something went wrong and Jeremy really had meant to be there early, but he'd just gotten delayed. These point fells on deaf ears. Michael knew, on some level, that it would make sense for that to have been the case, but that didn't alleviate the pressure on his chest or the lump forming in his throat. 

By the time graphic design was over, Michael was a mess. He didn't know what to think, wasn't sure what was happening. As he walked down the hall to his English class, he tried to calm himself down by stating what he knew for a fact. It usually helped him calm down. 

He knew that Jeremy had told his father that the reason he didn't text Michael that morning was because he had to go early and he didn't want to bug him. Michael also knew that Jeremy had not arrived at school early, and that he hadn't been panicking like he always did when he was late. 

The only solution, then, was that Jeremy really didn't have to come to school early. 

Michael swallowed a lump in his throat as he sat down in his English class. If Jeremy hadn't really needed to go to school early, why would he tell his dad that he did? Why would he make the sweaty, uncomfortable trek to school when he could've just texted Michael? 

The cruel, insistent voice in the back of Michael's mind was happy to provide an answer.  _He hates you_ , it whispered, slithering up from the dark parts of Michael's mind that he tried to ignore.  _He hates you and he's finally realized that he's too good for you and he's leaving you in the dust._

Michael felt like someone had punctured his chest, all the air rushing out. He tried his best to focus on what his teacher was saying, but he could hardly hear her words. Everything was so loud, too loud, but Michael didn't know how to fix it.

He squeezed his eyes shut, gripping his head in his hands.

"Not now, not now, not  _now,"_ Michaelmuttered softly Under his breath, forcing his eyes back open on the last word. It felt like it had worked: everything seemed back to normal, and the whispering voice had shut up. 

Michael breathed a sigh of relief. He knew that pushing stuff down wasn't healthy, but he didn't find that he actually cared. It had worked so far, and if it ain't broke, don't fix it. 

He drifted through the rest of his English class in a blurry haze, the after effects of his near breakdown hitting him hard on the way to his third period study hall. He collapsed into his seat, buried his head in his arms, and turned his music up as loud as it could go. He stayed that way, unmoving, for the rest of the period. 

When the bell rang, Michael stayed in his seats for a few minutes afterwards, not wanting to get up. He eventually made himself stand up anyways, knowing that he couldn't afford to be late to pre-calc. 

Michael trudged through the halls with his head down. Even though he was doing his best not to think about it, the realization that Jeremy was avoiding him was killing him. It lingered in the back of his mind, weighing him down, and it wouldn't go away no matter how loud he turned up his music. 

He settled into his chair in the pre-calc room with a sigh. It was only fourth period and he was already so far beyond exhausted, he wasn't sure how he was going to make it through the day. He didn't actually have much of a choice, though, so he forced himself to push all of his problems to the back of his mind and think about the math problems on the sheet in front of him, instead. 

It worked, for the most part, and Michael had almost fooled himself into believing that everything was fine by the time the bell rang.

He shoved the half finished sheet into his bag and zipped it closed, swinging it over his shoulder. He pulled his headphones over his ears as he walked out the door. The sound of his music flooded through them and Michael felt better than he had all day as he walked out into the hall. 

When he'd taken just a few steps out of the door, Michael got the strange sense that someone was watching him. He looked up from the floor and looked to his left, locking eyes with a pair of bright blue ones that he'd know anywhere. 

Jeremy was standing in the doorway of his last class, people angrily bumping his shoulders as they had to walk around him. Michael would've laughed at the way he stood still amidst all the moving students if it hadn't been for the fact that he looked like he'd seen a ghost. 

Michael felt a bright smile break out over his face regardless, instinctively raising a hand in greeting. He could visibly see Jeremy tense, and Michael's smile fell slightly. Jeremy flicked his eyes towards the floor, and when he looked back at Michael, his eyes were dull and empty. The eye contact lasted only a moment before Jeremy tore his eyes away. He turned with his eyes trained on the ground and disappeared into the crowd.

Michael's smile slipped off of his face, his hand falling down by his side. He turned around, his blood rushing in his ears, trying to push against the flow of students and follow Jeremy down the hall. He couldn't even see Jeremy anymore, and he realized there was no point. 

His shoulders sagged as he turned around. Jeremy hadn't lifted a hand in greeting, hadn't even smiled. He'd just looked at Michael with cold, dead eyes, then turned away. 

He let himself be propelled by the crowd of students, barely knowing where he was going. The facade he'd so carefully built up during math was gone, crumbling to pieces around him. 

There was no "maybe" here, no possible way to logically worm his way out of it. Jeremy was avoiding him - he didn't want anything to do with him, probably couldn't stand him. 

Michael realized that he probably should've felt more upset at the thought, but all he felt was numb. He didn't even remember walking into his history class but suddenly there he was, staring at his hands as they rested on the desk in front of him. There was a sort of disconnect between himself and the rest of reality, a lag that separated him from everything around him. It was like he was watching a movie of his life instead of actual living it. 

Michael stared blankly at his history teacher as he spoke, not really hearing anything. He glanced up at the clock every so often, watching the minutes tick by. The class passed in alternating chunks of excruciatingly slowness and incredible speed.

Michael didn't even hear the bell ring, only noticing when everyone around him stood up to leave. He grabbed his bag from the back of his chair, pulling on his headphones out of habit. The music was like a soundtrack playing in the background as Michael watched his feet move towards the door. 

He walked through the halls with his head down, moving on autopilot towards his locker. He reached out his hand to twist the lock without thinking about it, smoothly grabbing the things he needed and closing the door again. He replaced the locks and gave it an experimental tug before turning away, hunching his shoulders. 

Michael gripped his physics binder tightly as he walked down the hall and turned down the stairs. He did even realize where he was going until he was already there, the doors of the cafeteria looming in front of him. 

Even more so than yesterday, Michael didn't want to go in. He could hear the crushing swell of noise seeping out from under the door, and he didn't want anything to do with it. He really didn't want to see Rich or Chloe, or any of the popular kids who treated him like a source of entertainment. And he really, really didn't want to have to sit in awkward silence with Jeremy, probably as far apart as they could be at their lonely table.

The only thing that propelled Michael towards the door was the threat of detention if he slipped away to somewhere else. Besides, maybe what he needed was a bit of background noise to shake the disconnected feeling that had been dogging him since seeing Jeremy in the hall before fifth period. 

The period had started a few minutes ago, so Michael was alone in the hall. With a heavy sigh, Michael straightened his shudders and placed a hand on the handle to the lunchroom. After one last moment of deliberation, he yanked it open and stepped inside. 

The first thing he noticed was that their table was empty, which was weird because it was almost five minutes into the period, so Jeremy definitely should've been there. 

The second thing he noticed was that Jeremy wasn't at their table because he was sitting at a different one. 

Jeremy was sitting at a table against the windows on the opposite side of the room from where he and Michael usually sat. The light from the windows behind him was catching in his hair, showing the copper undertones in his brown curls. His head was tipped back in a laugh, his mouth open in a wide grin. He looked so happy. 

Michael felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He couldn't remember the last time Jeremy had laughed like that with anyone but him. 

He watched as Jeremy's laugh dwindled down and he opened his eyes, turning to say something to the girl next to him. Michael hadn't even noticed the people Jeremy was sitting with, but now that he looked, only one he recognized by name was the girl who Jeremy was sitting next to. 

Christine Canigula gave Jeremy a hundred watt smile. Michael watched as she started talking, gesturing excitedly with her hands. Jeremy nodded happily, then he laughed again at something she said. Christine started laughing too, and then the two of them were laughing together. 

Christine set a hand on Jeremy's arm as they giggled, and Michael's world shattered. 

Where he'd felt nothing before, he suddenly felt everything. Reality came back like a slap in the face, and Michael physically flinched at the sudden influx of sensation. The cafeteria was too loud, too bright, too  _everything_. He couldn't stand it. 

Michael turned around and pulled open the door, stumbling wildly into the hall. His breathing was shallow and he could hear his blood rushing in his ears. He moved through the hall in a panic, unable to force air into his lungs. There were tears prickling at the back of his eyes and all he could see was Jeremy laughing with Christine, her hand on his arm.

Michael shoved the door to the bathroom open and nearly fell to the floor. 

Jeremy didn't let people touch him. Not most people, not anyone besides Michael, really - or at least that's what Michael had thought. He certainly hadn't seen Jeremy flinching away when Christine placed one hand on his arm. 

And besides, it was  _Christine_. Jeremy had had a crush on her for ages, and now he was suddenly sitting with her at lunch, laughing with her, letting her put her hands on his arm like they'd known each other for ages? 

Michael let out a choked "fuck" as he slid against the wall to the floor, fisting his hands in his hair. The tears that he'd felt in the hallway were coming on strong and he couldn't breathe. He felt like he was choking, suffocating with the knowledge that he was being replaced. 

Jeremy had Christine now. Christine, who he'd talked to Michael about every day since the eighth grade. Christine, who was funny and talented and pretty. Christine, who was way cooler than Michael would ever be, who was going to take his place and take Jeremy with her. 

And then Michael would be alone.

_Alone. Alone. Alone_. 

The beating of Michael's pounding heart was a refrain of his fate, threatening to burst out of his chest. He felt like his chest was going to explode, like he was about to die right there on the disgusting floor of Middleborough High School. 

Michael pulled at his hair, gasping for breath. He couldn't seem to remember how to breathe, making erratic, choking sounds as he tried desperately to get some air. He couldn't stop shaking, couldn't see through the thick, hot tears clinging to his lashes. He felt something hot and rotten and painful churning in his gut, spidering it's way through his veins until his entire body was in agony. 

He was drowning above ground. There was a burning in his chest that Michael knew would go away if he could just get in a real breath, but he couldn't. Even as he desperately tried to force himself to breathe, all he could manage was stuttered, choking sobs that didn't do anything except make him shake with the force of them. 

He was hyperventilating, his lungs screaming out for air. Michael clawed weakly at his chest through his hoodie. Maybe if he could tear through his ribs, he could alleviate the pressure building below his skin, threatening to explode. 

He was starting to feel woozy from the lack of air, and suddenly, his survival instincts kicked in. Michael forced himself to hold his breath for a moment, then opened his mouth and took a huge gasp of air. He coughed slightly at the sudden influx, then took another deep, shuddering breath. 

After the first two, the rest came easier. It was still erratic, but at least now there was air flowing into his lungs. The screaming pain in his chest subsided as he gulped down more air, but there were still tears blurring his vision. 

Every time he thought he had it under control, the memory of Jeremy and Christine slammed into him and he'd start choking again, the tears flowing faster. By the third time, Michael was almost ready for it. He only choked a little bit, forcing himself to take slow, measured breaths. He pushed himself off of the ground and leaned against the wall for support, the world spinning around him. 

When the bathroom had righted itself, Michael walked towards the sink. He let out a shaky breath as he gripped the edge of the basin, knuckled going white. 

Jeremy was leaving him. He had to accept it.

He should've always known it was coming, that Jeremy would realize at some point that he could do so much better, but one year of friendship had turned to five had turned to twelve and Michael had forgotten to be ready to lose him. He'd gotten so used to having his player two by his side that now, the reality of losing him was unimaginable. 

Well, now he didn't have to imagine it. 

Michael hands clenched tighter around the edge of the sink at the thought. He fought to keep his breathing steady, running his thumbs back and forth over the smooth porcelain. The tears were starting to slow down, and Michael was suddenly aware of the crusty feeling of leftover salt on his face. 

With a deep breath, he turned on the tap, cupping water in his palms. They were shaking, sending little ripples through the water collected in his hands. Michael splashed the water on his face, flinching at the sudden coolness. He stuck his hands under the faucet again and gathered some more water. He rubbed it against his cheeks and eyes, cleaning away the dried tears. 

It felt soothing against his face, which he could see by his reflection in the mirror was flushed. He took another palmful of water and rubbed at his face again, this time swiping under his nose to get rid of the bubbles of snot that had dripped out while he was crying. 

Michael's breathing was practically back to normal by the time he was done washing off his face. A glance in the mirror confirmed that he looked exactly how he felt: like shit. 

His eyes were puffy and red, and there were still a few stray tears threatening to spill over his lashes. Michael grabbed a paper towel to wipe the water away, throwing it in the trash as he turned back to his reflection. His face was bright red from the combination of crying and cold water. He turned away from his reflection with a sigh, looking down at his hands instead.

He felt so alone, standing there in that bathroom by himself. His only friend didn't need him - didn't want him - anymore. He'd been replaced by Christine, sweet, talented, annoyingly wonderful Christine. She'd take his place as the newer, cooler version of Michael at Jeremy's side, and Michael would be left alone, just a loser in the bathroom. 

Michael let out a watery laugh. When he'd woken up from his nightmare earlier that morning (was that really just that morning? it felt like days ago), he hadn't been expecting it to come true. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket with a shaking hand and turned it on, checking the time. He'd spent nearly the entire period in the bathroom. Michael thanked whatever higher power there was that no one had walked in while he was sobbing against the wall. 

With a final glance at his appearance, Michael sighed and turned away. There wasn't anything he could do about his eyes, and he knew his face would settle down eventually. He walked towards his bag, which he must've shoved off of his shoulders at some point. Michael pulled it back on with a sigh, deciding that it was near enough to the end of the period that he could probably slip back into that hall without anyone calling him out. Kids left lunch early all the time and rarely ever got in trouble, and he really didn't want to get caught up in the massive crowd of students that would be emerging from the cafeteria in a few minutes. 

He stepped out into the hall, feeling minutely better now that he was out of the bathroom. As he went to turn down the hall, he heard a voice behind him. 

"Oh my god, did you see his eyes? He's totally stoned."

Michael froze, hearing a few laughs come from behind him. He turned around against his better judgement, already knowing that he was going to regret looking. 

Chloe Valentine stood there, a nasty grin on her face. Brooke Lohst and Jenna Rolan flanked her on either side. Of course they were the kinda kids who would leave lunch early, Michael thought bitterly. 

Chloe stared him down, smirking. "If it isn't Middleborough's resident loser pothead! What, were you just like, smoking up in there?" She let out a high, cold laugh. The two girls next to her giggled as well as Michael shifted uncomfortable. He was about to turn and try to walk away when a new voice joined in. 

"Nah," Rich laughed, pushing himself away from the wall he'd been leaning on. "He was totally crying in there."

Michael's heart began to pound. How did Rich know? Had he seen? How much had he witnessed?

Chloe gave Rich a bemused look. "And what makes you so sure?" Her voice was sugary sweet, but Michael could hear the venom underneath. She wasn't someone who like the spotlight being stolen. 

Michael waited with baited breath for Rich to say that he'd walked in on Michael crying in the bathroom, but the words that came next weren't what he was expecting at all. 

"Didn't you notice that his little boy toy Heere hadn't been around for the past few days? Poor loser's has been all alone," he drawled, moving closer. There was a predatory glint in his eye, and Michael could feel himself tensing up. He didn't want to hear about Jeremy right now.

"Yeah, and y'know what? Loser boy here wasn't in lunch today. Maybe you missed it," he sneered, "but your boyfriend dipped out on you. Saw him sitting with Christine," he added, grinning wolfishly. 

Chloe let out a laugh. "Oh my god, that is too much," she said. "Not even the biggest dork in the school will hang with you, huh? Wonder why," she added, a mocking tone underline the words. 

The four of them laughed, and Michael could feel tears in the backs of his eyes again. He clenched his fists at his sides, wanting to disappear into the floor. 

"Just - just fuck off, alright?" Michael mumbled, face heating up. He didn't want to cry in front of them, but it was getting close. He needed to get out, far away from them. 

"Sorry, did you say something?" Chloe asked, voice oozing fake politeness. She took a step towards Michael, challenging him to say it again. 

"I said fuck off, alright?" Michael snapped, glaring at Chloe. She looked shocked that he'd actually said anything, and the expression have Michael a rush of satisfaction. He had a sudden burst of resolve and he turned away from them, flipping them off as he walked away. 

"Whatever, you fucking gay loser!" Rich yelled after him. Michael didn't turn around.

Thankfully, the bell rang, and soon the hall was flooded with students. Michael made his way quickly to his forensics, heart pounding. As the adrenaline died down, it was replaced with a steady ache in his chest. He spent the period trying hard not to think about Jeremy. He failed miserably, unable to think about anything else. He hadn't taken a single word of notes by the time the bell ran at the end of class. 

If forensics was painful for Michael, study hall was worse. Michel spent the period with his music cranked up, fighting the urge to cry as he slumped over in his seat. All he could think about was Jeremy had moved on from him and how he was doomed to be a single player now, drifting through a world that was meant to be played in multiplayer mode. 

Physics crawled by, Michael agonizing over Jeremy the entire time. He nearly jumped out of his seat when the bell rang, so far beyond ready to go home that it was almost laughable. He hurried through the halls to his locker, rushing past a glaring Chloe before she could say anything. It only took him a second to throw his things back in and slam the door, and then a few minutes later he was walking out into the bright sunshine. 

He took a deep breath as he walked towards his car. It felt good to walk out of the school; he still felt like shit, but at least he could go home and feel like shit in the comfort of his own bed. 

As Michael approached his P.T. Cruiser, he slowed down. He knew that Jeremy didn't need him anymore, but there was still a desperate part of his brain that thought that maybe, just  _maybe_ , he would come over and get into the passenger's seat, that everything would be fine. Michael stood next to his car, leaning one hip against it. It was stupid to hope, but he scanned the crowds of students walking out of the school with bated breath anyways. 

When most of the students had trickled out of the school, Michael pulled his phone out of his pocket. He opened up the messages all, staring blankly at the words on his screen. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd pulled out his phone, only that it had seemed like he right thing to do next. He tapped on his conversation with Jeremy, one of the only ones he had in the app. His thumbs were poised over the keyboard, but he didn't know what to say. He wasn't even sure why he was trying - it was obvious that Jeremy didn't want anything to do with him, god, why couldn't he just let him go? 

But still, even though he knew he should, Michael didn't close out of the app. Instead, after a few minutes of deliberation, he typed out a text to Jeremy. It was just a simple text, asking if he needed a ride home. His thumb hovered over the send key, but it felt too desperate, too clingy, to send. Michael deleted the message and shoved his phone back into his pocket, chest aching. 

There was no one coming out of the doors anymore, and Michael was just about to call it quits and drive home when he suddenly spotted a familiar form on the sidewalk. His heart rate sped up; he would know that cardigan anywhere. Jeremy was walking away from him down the street, head down, hands in his pockets. 

He must have been waking home, Michael realized a pang. Jeremy wanted to be free from him so badly that he would rather walk than get into Michael's car. The thought made the ache in Michael's chest grow noticeably, but he tried his best to ignore it. 

And so he stood there, heart aching in his chest, watching as Jeremy walked away. He watched him until he disappeared behind the corner, and then he stood there, staring, for a few minutes longer. 

Jeremy hadn't looked back. 

With a painful sigh, Michael got into his car. He started the engine and drove home, feeling more alone than he ever had in his life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO YEAH uhhhhh dont kill me? but im hoping youre suffering as much as i did while writing that because IT WAS PAINFUL LEMME TELL YOU ! 
> 
> please leave comments and kudos it makes my entire day!!! and come hmu at choking-onholywater on tumblr if you want :') 
> 
> okay now i gtg its 2am and i still have homework w h o o p s


	10. is that what we are?

By the end of the day on Friday, Jeremy had mastered the art of carefully monitoring his vision, of seeing what he wanted to see and blocking out what - or  _who_  - he didn't. It wasn't simple, and it made him feel like he was missing a piece of himself, but it was better than the alternative. 

It had been a week since he'd bought the Squip, and four days since his world had turned upside down by the realization that he was in love with his best friend. He hadn't been able to look at Michael for four days without being flooded with guilt and shame and self loathing, so he'd made himself stop looking. He planned each step carefully, avoiding the places he knew Michael would be. He'd already had Michael's schedule memorized, so it wasn't that hard to plan his movements around Michael's.

Planning out his day to stay away from Michael wasn't hard. It was the little things that killed him, the things you couldn't plan for, like Michael being at the water fountain for a drink at the same time Jeremy had left to class to go the bathroom, or Michael coming into Jeremy's physics class to hand something in late. During those times, Jeremy had to fight to keep his eyes away from Michael. Instead of looking at him, he'd frantically search for anything else - the clock, his hands, problem number four on his math homework - and stare at it, unblinking, until he was sure Michael was gone. 

Then he'd blink and there'd be tears swimming in his eyes that he told himself were from staring so intensely without blinking, and he'd feel the void in his chest broaden. It was almost growing too deep to bear, and Jeremy was afraid that he was going to be swallowed up whole if it grew much more. 

Still, it was better than the alternative. 

At least, that's what Jeremy told himself. He sat in his study hall, trying to focus on the problems on the math sheet in front of him. He stared at the jumble of numbers and letters on the page in front of him with unseeing eyes until they blurred together in long, meaningless strands. 

With a quiet groan, Jeremy rubbed his eyes. He glanced up at the clock and couldn't help but wilt when he saw how little time had passed since he'd last checked. It felt like the period was dragging on for ages, and all Jeremy wanted was to go home. Purposefully not seeing Michael was exhausting - not to mention emotionally taxing - and Jeremy couldn't wait to be back in his own room, breathing freely and not having to check over his shoulder for Michael everywhere he went. 

Another glance at the clock told him that he still had eight minutes until the bell rang. Jeremy slumped down into his seat, resting his head in his arms. He spent the rest of the period trying to think about anything but Michael. It felt like he was spending a lot of time that way, lately. 

The bell startled Jeremy from his totally, completely non-Michael related thoughts a few minutes later. He jumped out of his chair and swung his bag over his shoulders, taking long, fast strides down the hall. He stared down at the ground as he hurried towards his locker, briefly flicking his eyes up every once in a while to make sure Michael wasn't around. 

Jeremy came to a halt in front of his locker. He nimbly turned the dial on his lock and pulled it off, tossing his extra binders inside before slamming the door closed again. After replacing the lock, he turned down the hall, walking the opposite direction than he'd walked every day of high school before. Instead of going right, he went left - away from the parking lot. 

After having to pass Michael at his car the day before, Jeremy was in no hurry to go through that ordeal again. It took him a bit out of the way, but he decided that going out the back door and then down the street behind the school would be a safer option, as far as avoiding Michael was concerned. He trekked through the halls, feeling out of place against the rushing throngs of students heading for the front doors. Still, he pushed through, and a few minutes later, he found himself pushing open the door at the back of the building.

He glanced at the clouds as he walked across the empty soccer field towards the road on the other side. It was a quiet afternoon, a slight breeze ruffling the trees. Jeremy relished in the peaceful silence as he walked, enjoying the whisper of the cool breeze on his face. 

By the time he reached the street, he felt much better. Each step he took away from the school felt like a step away from all of his problems; each step towards home carrying to an enjoyable weekend of doing absolutely nothing. Jeremy sighed happily, ignoring the cramp starting to form in his side in favor of thinking about how he was going to spend his night. 

He figured that he'd probably try to get his homework done when he got home so that he wouldn't have to worry about it later. After that, there really wasn't a plan. It was just a night for Jeremy to relax after an incredibly stressful week, to do whatever he wanted. 

Well, not  _exactly_  whatever he wanted. 

His first instinct at the prospect of a free weekend had been to call Michael and make plans. They could go see a movie, or go to the arcade, or just hang out and play video games together. It had been a while since they'd gotten stoned in Michael's basement, and Jeremy could really use a break from all the stress.

He'd come to his senses almost immediately after the thought appeared in his mind. Of course he couldn't call Michael - the weekend was going to relaxing  _because_  he wouldn't have to keep an eye out for Michael. Even so, Jeremy found it a little difficult to come up with ways to spend a whole weekend without Michael and not be miserable. 

He thought about it while he walked, ignoring the sweat starting to dampen his t-shirt and the cramps in his ankles. It wasn't that much further to his house, and he wasn't going to let this ruin his night. Even if he felt pretty shitty, he hoped that if he pretended that he was fine for long enough, he'd start to feel it. He figured having a fun night in was a good start.

Jeremy was quickly losing his forced positivity as the pain in his ankles grew and his shirt began to cling to him uncomfortably. He was scowling slightly by he time he approached the corner of his street, wanting nothing more than to flop down on his bed and relax. 

"Almost there," he muttered. He made himself give a big smile, then repeated, "Almost there!" with a happier tone. He couldn't tell if it was helping, and it made him feel ridiculous, but he  _really_ , really didn't think he could handle another sad night. If faking it was really what it took then, well, it was a good thing that Jeremy was an actor. 

"A good thing indeed," his Squip said, appearing beside him suddenly. Jeremy flinched, then whipped to glare at his Squip, his pulse racing. 

"Jesus! Don't do that to me!" he exclaimed, continuing to walk. 

His Squip gave a graceful shrug, floating alongside Jeremy. "My apologies. I simply thought I could offer some advice —"

"No! No advice, alright?" Jeremy practically yelled. "I'm just going home, I don't your advice right now! I just want a quiet night alone! No weird flirting, no scripted conversations, no nothing! Just some video games and some junk phone," he said, stuffing his hands in his pocket. He continued to shuffle along down the street, shoulders hunched. 

His Squip seemed unimpressed with his plans for the weekend. "Fine. But I would still advise you to fix your hair," he added, turning away from Jeremy with a bitter note is his voice. 

 "Yeah, whatever," Jeremy mumbled, glaring at the ground. 

Jeremy walked in silence around the corner and down the street towards his home, keeping his eyes on the ground. His Squip strolled next to him, crackling slightly. He seemed annoyed, like he was dying to contain his anger but couldn't quite manage. 

Jeremy couldn't really find it in himself to care. He was just walking home, there wasn't anything going on, no one around to impress - what was so urgent?

He glanced up, seeing that he was nearly home, then returned his eyes to the sidewalk.

"Wait - what the  _fuck_?" he exclaimed 

Jeremy stopped walking and jerked backwards, eyes flying open wide. He was nearly at his house, and there was a car parked in his driveway. He felt his heart rate spike, and he began to sweat from nerves as well as the heat. 

What the hell was Michael's P.T. Cruiser doing in his driveway?

Jeremy feet sped up of their own accord even as his brain screamed for him to flee. He could feel his heart pounding hard in his chest as he raced towards his driveway, his Squip trailing behind him. 

As he got closer, he could tell that it was definitely Michael's car. He could see the dent on the front bumper from where they'd crashed into a street sign the first time Michael could drive by himself. The memory made Jeremy's heart ache and he broke into a stumbling jog, desperate to know what was going on. 

He skidded to a halt at the end of his driveway, freezing as he took in the scene. 

There was Michael, sitting on the steps of Jeremy's front porch. He was staring at the ground, running his thumb over the edge of a cardboard box next to him. 

He looked different, and Jeremy drank in the sight of him like a man who'd been dying of thirst. He looked good; he was wearing his classic red hoodie and a pair of ripped jeans.   Jeremy didn't recognize the jeans and he wondered, belatedly, if they were new. Michael's hair was messy in the way that his hair was always messy: somehow looking both perfect and effortless at one.

Suddenly, Jeremy was aware of how terrible he must look. His hair was flat with sweat, clinging to his forehead. The breeze had ruffled it it a swirling mess, and he knew there were sweat marks on his shirt.

"Told you that you should've fixed your hair!" his Squip singsonged next to him. Jeremy shot him a glare, then turned back to Michael. 

As though he could feel Jeremy's eyes on him, Michael looked up suddenly. His expression was stormy, and Jeremy ached at the pain he saw in Michael's eyes. The expression was gone after a split second, one of anger taking it's place. 

"It's about time you showed up. I was gonna throw your shit on your lawn and leave if you weren't here soon," Michael said, standing up. Venom laced his tone and he glared at Jeremy, eyes swimming with emotion.  

Jeremy didn't know what to say. Michael seemed happy to continue on his own, though. 

"Yeah, you were probably hanging out with Christine, huh?" He gave a mirthless laugh, shoving hand hands into his hoodie pocket. "Whatever. Doesn't fucking matter. Just thought you might want the shit from your drawer at my house — excuse me, your  _old_  drawer," he corrected himself, voice barbed with anger. 

"So yeah, here it is," he said, kicking the box on the ground next to him. It skittered a bit on impact, and Jeremy watched it move silently. 

He looked back at Michael. "Uh, what?" he asked. 

He didn't know what was going on, but clearly that had been the wrong thing to say. 

"God, whatever!" Michael exploded in anger, his voice echoing loudly. "I just thought you might want your shit back so you could, I dunno, go put it at Christine's place, since the two of you are so close!" His face was growing red and his hands had emerged from his pocket at some point, clenched into fists at his sides. 

Jeremy was taken aback, flinching at Michael's tone. Michael was angry at him - really, truly angry, the kind of anger that seeps out of your skin and infects everything around you. Jeremy didn't know how to respond; he could count the number of times that Michael had been mad at him before on one hand. 

He could count the number of times Michael had been  _this_  mad at him before with no hands. 

He didn't know what to say to make it better. There had to be something that would fix this, if only Jeremy could find the right words. His tongue felt like lead in his mouth and he floundered as he tried to think of the right thing to say. He came up blank.  

"I wasn't hanging out with Christine," he blurted. That was the wrong answer - again. 

"Holy shit, that's what you wanna focus on? Fine, whatever!" Michael threw his hands up in angry exasperation. "I don't care what you were doing, it doesn't even fucking matter!" He stopped and stared at the ground, shoving his hands back in his pockets. After a beat of silence, he gave a soft, cold laugh. 

"What the fuck am I still doing here?" he asked, running a hand through his hair. He turned abruptly towards his car, moving towards it with uneven steps. "I can take the fucking hint. Just - there's your shit. You won't have to worry about me bothering you anymore," he muttered. 

Jeremy didn't know what to say. He felt like he was drowning, like something catastrophic was happening before him and he was the only one who could stop it, but nobody had told him how. He took a step towards Michael, trying desperately to come up with something to say. 

"It's not like that," he tried weakly. 

Michael stopped, one hand on the handle of the car. Then he spun around, anger blooming across his features. 

"Then what exactly is it like, Jeremy? Because it sure fucking felt  _like that_ when you ignored me yesterday! And when you ditched me at lunch! And when you didn't answer any of my fucking texts!" Michael's eyes were glowing, anger radiating from every pore. He was shaking, and there was a sadness clinging to the underside of his words. 

"You know," Michael continued bitterly, the words flowing out of his mouth without his consent. "I had a whole fucking angry monologue planned out. Twelve years of friendship, just fucking gone? And for what? You just decide one day that you're too good for me, that I'm just another loser, that now that you have better options you're just gonna throw our friendship away? And then you come into school and — why are you looking at me like that?" 

While Michael had been yelling, Jeremy had realized how much he'd missed this. Not the yelling part, of course, but the Michael part. All of it, from his voice to his hair to his hoodie. He'd missed it so much, the missing piece that he'd been depriving himself of for days. 

"It - it's just good to see you, man," he mumbled, knowing it wasn't the right thing to say. It was his fault that they hadn't seen each other in days, after all. 

Michael looked shocked. He stood there, looking at Jeremy and breathing heavily. 

"You should tell him you're sorry."

Jeremy flinched at the sudden sound of his Squip's voice in the tense silence. He willed it to go away, but his Squip persisted, filling the gaping silence between Jeremy and Michael with advice that Jeremy hadn't asked for. 

"It would be wise to move towards him," he suggested. When Jeremy didn't follow the cue, his Squip let out a sigh and tried again, suggesting that Jeremy make up an excuse for his behavior. Jeremy ignored him, waiting for Michael to say something. 

His Squip continued to spout off advice, but Jeremy was focusing on Michael. He'd been silent for a few moments, looking at Jeremy intensely. After a pause, he sighed, turning his eyes to the ground. 

"If it's so good to see me, why have you been avoiding me? I just - I just don't get it, man. I don't know what I did wrong," Michael said softly. "If you want me to leave you alone, I'll leave you alone. Just - tell me where I stand, alright? That's all I'm asking."

Jeremy tried his best to listen to what Michael was saying, but his Squip continued to pester him, each suggestion louder than the last. 

Michael looked back up at Jeremy. His eyes were sad, and Jeremy felt the urge to comfort him. "I just thought that —"

"God, shut  _up_!" Jeremy yelled, turning his head slightly to glare at his Squip. His Squip disappeared under his withering glance. 

Michael's face hardened. "God, you know man? Fuck you," he spat. "I though maybe you were gonna try to fix things, but you don't even give a shit what I have to say. You've been a real dick, you know that? What kinda asshole just fucking treats their best friend that way?" He turned back towards his car as Jeremy realized what he'd done. 

"No, wait! Michael, I - that wasn't - I didn't mean —"

"Yeah, sure you didn't." Michael said bitterly. "Whatever, Jeremy. You can't just treat people like shit, ignore them for fucking days, and expect them to just put up with it with no explanation. If you wanna ignore me, fine. I can't fucking stop you. Call me if you ever wanna explain why you're being such an ass."

He moved to get into his car. Jeremy didn't know what to do, but he knew he couldn't let Michael drive away. He didn't know if he could handle that. 

"Listen Michael, I'm so sorry," Jeremy blurted. "I never meant to hurt you it's just - do you remember that pill we bought last week? The one at the mall? Yeah, the one that we thought was a total scam? Well it worked, and this, like, fake Keanu Reeves has been in my head since then? And he gives me advice and I was telling him to shut up just now, not you," Jeremy rambled. 

Michael stopped getting into his car to listen. Jeremy took that as a sign of encouragement and kept going. 

"And okay, so I got it for Christine, right? But then it didn't actually help with Christine and I was like 'what the hell?' because I'd wasted so much money and it wasn't even working! Sorry, that's not important, it's just — well, anyways, it starting looking through my memories and..." he trailed off, not wanting to continue that sentence. 

Michael turned around slowly. He looked at Jeremy for a beat, then said, "So let me get this straight. That shady pill from the back of the mall actually worked, and it's been telling you to treat me like shit?"

Jeremy winced. "Not - not exactly," he muttered.

"So then what is it?" Michael asked. His voice held only a hint of the anger from before, but Jeremy knew that it was now or never. If he said the wrong thing now, Michael would get in his car and drive away. 

Jeremy took a deep breath. "It showed me some memories and made me realize that maybe I didn't like Christine which is crazy, right?"

The words tumbled out of his mouth in a messy cascade, speeding up as he went. He didn't pause for a breath before he continued, knowing that if he stopped, he'd never get the words out.

"But it was right, the way that Christine made me feel wasn't the way that a crush is supposed to feel and Christine is great and fun but I'd been making myself believe that I had a crush on her when maybe I had a tiny, not so tiny, terrifying crush on you?"

He said it all in one breath, barely squeaking out the last word. Michael's face gave nothing away, and Jeremy continued to ramble to avoid the awkward silence that he knew would stretch between them if he let it. 

"And I'm not saying that what I did was right because god I fucking hurt you and I never meant to, it's just that I had no fucking idea what to do once I realized that I'd been lying to you and to myself and to everyone for god knows how long? And it was such a shitty thing to do, but I thought that if you knew you'd hate me or be grossed out because I dunno, if it was me I would be, because like, it's me. I'm just a clingy, annoying loser and you're so amazing and cool and I just didn't know if I could handle you hating me once you found out how I felt."

All of his words flew out of his mouth without pause, turning into tone long, desperate sentence. Jeremy continued without stoping, for a breath. 

"But now you kinda hate me already so I don't have anything to lose and I guess I'm just trying to explain why I ignored you and if you still hate me I get it but I just needed to at least  _try_  to explain because I never wanted this and I don't wanna lose you, if you want to leave that's fine because — god, this isn't coming out right at all, is it? But I'm sorry for treating you like shit because I was too much of a coward to deal with my own feelings and if you hate me that's fine, I just had to get this all off of my chest because then maybe you'd understand what I was doing and —"

"Jeremy."

"— it wasn't the right thing to do but I've always been so clueless when it comes to people so I didn't know how else to handle it. I was so angry at myself but never at you and I just felt so guilty for lying to you, even though really I didn't know I was lying —"

"Jeremy —"

"But then I realized that even if you forgave me for lying it was going to freak you out that I liked you because you're way too cool for me and we're supposed to be best friends and best friends  _definitely_  don't feel like that, and I don't even know how long the feeling's been there because I'm so oblivious and I was totally ignoring it and —"

" _Jeremy_!" Michael yelled. Jeremy snapped his mouth shut, mortified. Oh god, Michael was going to hate him for good now, he'd said way too much, way too fast, so many things that he hadn't meant to say —

"Are you listening?" The question pulled Jeremy out of his anxious thought and back to reality. Michael was standing closer to him than before, one hand reaching out towards him. Jeremy didn't want to look Michael in the eyes, embarrassment pulsing through his veins. 

"Jeremy?" Michael asked again. 

Jeremy could feel tears prickling in the back of his eyes. He had his eyes glued firmly to the ground, not ready to look at Michael and see the end of their friendship written all over his face. 

"Hey, dude, look at me," Michael said softly. 

Jeremy squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before making himself look at Michael. He prepared for the worst, and was shocked at what he saw.

Michael was smiling crookedly, shaking his head. His eyes were brimming with raw, real emotions that Jeremy couldn't place - joy and confusion and bitterness and so many more all swirling together in his features.

"Jeremy," he said with a soft laugh, "you are the most oblivious person I've ever met." 

And then he was pulling Jeremy towards him and crushing him into a hug, his hoodie soft and warm. Jeremy let out a surprised noise - this wasn't at all how he'd pictured this going. He didn't really understand why Michael wasn't more angry, and as much as he wanted to just stay wrapped up in Michael's embrace, he forced himself to pull back. 

"I - I don't get it," he said. "Why - why aren't you mad, or grossed out, or...?" he trailed off, unsure. He was grateful that Michael wasn't any of those thing, but it didn't make any sense. 

"I t-treated you like shit," Jeremy continued. "I just told you that - that I've been lying to you for who knows how long, and that my —" he paused, uncomfortable with what he was going to say next. "That my  _feelings_  are more than just normal best friend stuff, and you're just okay with it?" 

"Jeremy," Michael said seriously. "You're my best friend - my favowite pewson," he added, cracking a grin, "but you're also the biggest idiot I've ever met." 

Jeremy looked up, startled. 

"Seriously dude. Like, okay, you treated me like shit and I totally have not forgiven you for that yet, but just — you're telling me that you were anxious because of your feelings?" Michael asked, keeping his voice steady. 

"Y-yeah." Jeremy fixed his eyes on the ground. "It sounds stupid when you say it like that."

"Well, ignoring me was kinda stupid," Michael ceded. "Totally didn't give me the 'hey, I'm into you!' vibe - it was more of an 'I don't wanna see you ever again!' kinda thing."

Jeremy shifted uncomfortably, but Michael pressed on.

"But dude -  _dude!"_ He stopped suddenly. "Oh my god? You - you actually like,  _like_  me? For real?" His eyes were wide as he looked at Jeremy, a light pink flush on his cheeks. 

Jeremy flushed bright red. "Please don't make me go through saying all of that again," he said, hiding his face in his hands. 

"Oh my god. Oh my  _god_ ," Michael repeated, dumbfounded. Then a huge smile broke open across his face. " _Holy fucking shit_!" he yelled. "I can't believe this!"

Jeremy took his hands away from his face and peered at Michael with a curious expression. "Uh - hey, Michael? Wanna tell me what's going on right now?"

It was Michael's turn to flush red. He looked down at his hands, fidgeting with the cord on his headphones. 

"Oh. Uh, yeah," he muttered. "You know how I uh, told you that I realized I was gay because I started having feelings for this guy?" He kept his eyes down, face glowing bright red. 

"Yeah, I remember...?" Jeremy said, confused. There was a beat of silence. Michael cleared his throat awkwardly, and realization dawned on Jeremy's face. 

"Oh.  _Oh_." 

"Yeah," Michael laughed.

"That was like...three years ago," Jeremy stated, shocked. 

Michael hummed uncomfortably. "Mhm," he said, still blushing brightly. 

A second wave of realization hit Jeremy. " _Wait_! You - do you still - I mean, it's not like you have to, but —?" He couldn't seem to get out a full sentence, stammering as his face deepened in shade to match Michael's. 

Michael let out a soft laugh and Jeremy blushed even more. He didn't know how to ask if his best friend still liked him, but luckily, he didn't have to ask. 

Before he knew what was happening, Michael closed the space between them. He settled one hand on Jeremy's waist, the other resting comfortably at the nape of his neck. He leaned in deliberately, and then he was kissing Jeremy. 

Stars exploded in Jeremy's vision, his heart about to burst out of his chest. He stood there, shocked, arms at his sides, eyes wide open. Even through his shock, he noticed that Michael's lips were soft, more than he would've guessed they would be. 

It was a short kiss and when Michael pulled away, grinning, Jeremy felt the urge to pull him back in. 

"Did that answer you question?" Michael laughed. 

Jeremy blinked. "Uh," he said dumbly. "Yeah - yeah, I think so." 

There was a pause. 

"That was -  _wow_. Yeah. Could we, uh - could you - wanna do that again?" Jeremy asked, smiling sheepishly. 

Michael laughed. "Dude, I've wanted to do that for years. C'mere," he said, and he pulled Jeremy towards him again. 

This time, Jeremy wrapped his arms around Michael and closed his eyes, savoring the moment. 

The kiss was soft and sweet and completely, utterly perfect. It didn't matter that it was messy and way more spitty than a kiss ought to be. It didn't matter that Michael's glasses were poking Jeremy's face, or that their teeth knocked together a few times, or that Jeremy's nose was smushed awkwardly against Michael's cheek. It was exactly them, Jeremy and Michael, and they were all that mattered in the world at that moment. 

Michael rested his forehead against Jeremy's when they pulled apart, smiling madly. 

"I can't fucking believe I'm finally getting to do that," he said breathlessly. "I didn't think it would ever happen. I thought you were  _straight_!" Michael laughed. 

Jeremy laughed too. "Yeah, well, so did I," he said, giving an awkward shrug. "Turns out I was just like, really repressing my emotions. Should've bought a shady computer pill sooner, I guess."

Michael pulled back and looked at Jeremy accusingly. "Yeah, about that - why didn't you tell me that it worked when we were at the mall, dude?"

Jeremy paused, thinking. He didn't really have an answer. "I dunno, it just...didn't come up...?" he said, his voice trailing up at the end like a question. 

Michael rolled his eyes. "Uh huh. Oh and this" — he punched Jeremy on the shoulder lightly — "is for ignoring me! What the hell are you man, a first grader? Ignoring your crush is like, totally not one the best flirting tactics. I gotta be honest, I wasn't exactly feeling the love when you were completely refusing to acknowledge my existence. You were sending some seriously mixed signals, dude." 

Jeremy immediately felt guilty, but he could hear the joking note in Michael's tone. "Yeah. I'm sorry, Michael. That was really stupid," he  muttered.

"It was," Michael said, nodding sagely. "But maybe you could make it up to me," he said, waggling his eyebrows. 

Jeremy laughed, then grew sober again. "Seriously, I'm really sorry. That was a dumb decision on my part." He stared down at his hands. He watched as Michael reached one hand over and grabbed Jeremy's, twining the fingers together. 

"Hey dude, really, it's okay. I accept your apology," he said, giving Jeremy's hand a gentle squeeze. "Those few days were pretty shitty, but like, what would be the point of pushing you away now? Nah, I'd much rather have my player two back," Michael said, grinning. He pulled Jeremy into another quick hug, then bumped him softly with his shoulder. "Besides, who would help me beat level nine then? It's literally impossible without a partner, man!"

Jeremy let out a soft laugh, relief flooding through him that Michael was no longer angry at him. "Jeez, I see the ulterior motives here," he quipped, gesturing to the space between them. 

Michael rolled his eyes. "Yeah, the only reason I wanted to date you was so that you could help me smash in the skulls of zombie children." 

There was a sharp intake of breath. "Is that what we are? We're dating?" Jeremy asked, turning to look at Michael. 

"Well, uh, I'd hope so? Otherwise those kisses would be kinda awkward," Michael laughed. He hadn't really thought about it before he'd spoken, and he was really hoping he hadn't weirded Jeremy out by saying that they were dating. Was it too soon to say something like that? Michael didn't know. 

Apparently it wasn't, because Jeremy squeezed Michael's hand, a bright smile gracing his features. "My boyfriend," he said slowly, testing the words on his tongue. "Not as good as player one, but it'll do," he decided, grinning. 

Michael grinned back as Jeremy repeated the word again, enjoying the way it rolled off his tongue.  

"Boyfriend. Boy...friend..." he trailed off, thinking, then burst out laughing. 

Michael raised an eyebrow. "Uh, Jeremy? What's going on there, dude?"

"Rich - Rich was right," Jeremy giggled. "When he wrote on our bags, he was right the whole time." 

Michael shook his head, laughing. He slung an arm over Jeremy's shoulder and felt Jeremy lean into his arms tipping his head slightly to rest his cheek on Michael's shoulder. Michael couldn't hardly believe that it was real, that he was one of the lucky few who loved and was loved back. He could hardly believe that he was really dating Jeremy, that he could really kiss him and hold him like he'd wanted for years. 

"Yeah," he laughed, pulling Jeremy closer. "I guess he was." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and wow, there it is. im almost getting emotional??? but wow. yeah, that it!!! please comment and lemme know what you thought!!! thanks so much to all of you who've commented, i love each and every one !!!
> 
> find me on tumblr at @choking-onholywater :')
> 
> until next fic my friends!!!!!


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